Vigilante 8
by Anguirus111
Summary: In 1977 when the oil supply stopped, the auto wars began...
1. Intro I

A/N: This has actually been a pet project of mine for awhile that's finally seeing fruition. Essentially it'll be the storyline of Vigilante 8 in prose form to be followed up with Vigilante 8: Second Offense and finally a third story that'll intersect with another popular post-apocalyptic road epic. The characterizations are what they are. I've taken some small liberties but ultimately they should stay fairly true to what little information we were given about the characters in the booklets. That being said, I'm not really going to give physical descriptions of the characters because if you know the game or dig through IGN's Vigilante 8: Second Offense guide, they're right there. I'm also trying to keep this as realistic as possible but it is an AU from our world, clearly.

_In 1973, in response to the Yom Kippur War the Organization of Arab Petroleum Exporting Countries consisting of the Oil Petroleum Exporting Countries along with Egypt and Syria emplaced an oil embargo on all petroleum to the states that supporting Israel during the conflict. As a result, oil prices skyrocketed. Prices quickly reached 12 dollars a barrel and rose from there. Gasoline reached nearly 7 dollars a gallon and public outcry forces both, reconsideration from the West about Arab-Israeli relations and for OAPEC to reconsider the consequences of the embargo as well. By December 1974, relationships between Arabs and Israelis had become noticeably calmer and so there was discussion amongst OAPEC members to consider eliminating the embargo altogether._

_But something went wrong._

_The European Community, fed up with OAPEC, began a limited military assault on the oil producing nations to secure oil reserves and lower gasoline prices. The intervention quickly turned sour as lack of available oil for the war effort caused both parties to retreat after brief hostilities and try to restore diplomatic relations._

_But the damage had already been done. In the ensuing power vacuum that engulfed the Middle East, foreign agents from across the world seized control of OAPEC and transformed it into a ruthless conglomerate bent on forcing the world to its will. The Oil Monopoly Alliance Regime was formed. OMAR proceeded to further raise prices and cut production. Riots erupted across the world from skyrocketing gas prices and the lack of available gasoline. Third world governments were overthrown and the scared citizens quickly submitted themselves to OMAR's rule. Still others however, were not able to bring themselves to formally surrender as Europe dissolved into violence tearing apart most major cities and fires engulf the various countrysides. The Soviet Union and China withdrew into themselves by abandoning all borders with the outside world and heavily mining them while communication becomes totally cut off. No one is really sure what happened in Australasia, though rumors persisted of an advanced motor police force being formed in the land down under._

_The Americas are not much better off either. South America erupts into chaos with the non-oil producing states attacking the oil producing states and vice-versa. Supplies dwindle and looting erupts with the masses turning on each other. By 1976 South America is little more than a huge pile of rubble pockmarked by occasional pieces of humanity._

_Above the equator, Central America was taken over by South American drug lords fleeing the devastation tearing apart their countries. Violence soon erupted between the governments and the cartel mercenaries as civilians fled in its wake, many pushed north into Mexico. But Mexico was having its own problems as when Europe collapsed, the United States mined the border and as a result it was too dangerous to even attempt to head north. So Mexico turned into a giant melting pot that was slowly going down the drains quicker than the rapidly fleeting supplies of gasoline. Above the US, Canada split apart into its provinces and began self-governing themselves to varying degrees of success._

_But for the United States…_

_For the United States of America, one of the two superpowers in what was left of the world, things were going badly. Riots and looting struck every major city, from Los Angeles to Chicago to Washington D.C. President Ford declared a state of martial law, following President Nixon's abrupt impeachment for his poor handling of the oil crisis and to a lesser extent the Watergate Incident. As a result, law enforcement was called in to the cities making the smaller towns and businesses very vulnerable, including the oil fields and alternative energy sources that the United States was banking on to help them survive OMAR. And OMAR was only very much aware of this fact…_

July1977, Kuwait: Kuwait City was seemingly out of place for being so calm that belied the widespread insanity gripping the rest of the world. It may have had something to do with the armed patrols constantly roaming the street with their weapons at the ready, despite the fact that few citizens actually roamed the streets. Up and down the roads were large billboards proclaiming the greatness of OMAR. To any normal citizen it would be a sickening display of the power of the greedy corporation but to a man such as mercenary for hire Sid Burn, it mattered little. He was the best money could buy and he knew it. Pre-OMAR, when someone wanted a competitor out of the business, they hired him. Sure he wasn't cheap but neither was the places he destroyed and so large conglomerates hired him to do their dirty work. He'd worked in the South African Diamond mines, the South American Jungles, hell he'd even done some work for the United States government but they'd never admit to it. He'd done it all in his 1969 Rattler, equipped with the best weapons money could buy, and in today's world very much essential to avoid the 'crowds'. Sure having machines guns, rocket launchers, mortars, mines, and one gigantic Molotov cannon wasn't exactly conspicuous but he didn't care. All he cared about was the money and this latest job sounded like the money train he'd been waiting for ever since OMAR stepped up to the plate.

"Listen either you let me in with the car as it is or you can explain to your bosses why I wasn't able to make this meeting!" shouted Sid in his British accent to the crossing guard who spoke in Arabic, which Sid didn't understand, but did understand the guard pointing at the various weapons adorning his car. The guard continued yelling in Arabic until his radio beeped and he picked it up and talked into it. After a few moments he visibly paled before sweeping his arm to allow the car entrance to the OMAR compound.

"Thank you," said Sid condescendingly before he gunned the engine and drove into the compound. The car was instantly swarmed by guards who then marched in line with it as Sid just sat there in his seat annoyed. The group escorted him over to a gasoline pump that was even more heavily guarded. Sid brought the vehicle to a halt as the guards began pumping gasoline into his vehicle and topped it off.

"Thanks gents, what do I owe ya?" said Sid laughing evilly as he feigned a motion to take out his wallet. The guards glared at him before marching off and motioning for the Sid to follow them. Sid gunned the engine on his car and threw it into drive and followed the guards into an underground garage. Inside were numerous OMAR security vehicles in pristine condition, but one seemed out of place as Sid's eyes fell on a 1975 Palomino being worked on by various scientists in labcoats as it was fitted with seemingly very advanced weaponry. Sid paused briefly in front of the car, to actually own a car model post-1973 was extremely rare thanks to the oil shortages, and took out his camera and took a quick photo of the thing before a guard knocked the barrel of his gun against his window to keep moving. The mercenary scowled at him before placing the camera down and continued driving slowly down several more levels before reaching a large concrete blast door. The guards slowly pulled back away from the front of the car as emergency lights began spinning as the door slowly pulled upwards revealing a darkened area beyond it. Sid was about to flip on his lights when a guard pulled out a bullwhip and slapped it against a sign near the door reading 'no lights or thermal imagers of any kind'. Sid sighed.

"Fantastic," he said as he slowly rolled the car into the pitch black area as the door slowly came closing down behind him. The Manta continued slowly moving forward before an LED red stoplight image began shining in front of it. The Manta came to a halt before Sid killed the engine and dead silence engulfed the area. The mercenary sat there drumming the fingers on the bottom of the window frame wondering how long he'd have to wait here. He wasn't scared, he knew he had enough firepower to tear apart the door behind him, but this secrecy was going beyond what his normal clients usually showed and Sid was about fed up with it. He was just reaching for the ignition when spotlights began shining down from above. Two spotlights came down revealing two chairs poised high above him with two darkened figures sitting in them. Then two more spotlights came on further down on two more chairs and individuals, still high up, and further on down the line until ending on one massive chair hitting him square on at the very end of the stone canyon the Manta was now parked in.

"_So…the thirteen executives of OMAR_," though Sid slightly impressed as numbers appeared above all the chairs. All men craved power, but these thirteen had gone ahead and seized it. The mercenary emerged from his vehicle with his shotgun and leaned against the front of the hood of his car against the flame logo engulfing it. To his mild surprise, none of the OMAR executives flinched when he had revealed the weapon and it further demonstrated just how deadly they were.

"Hello boys and girls, what can I do for you?" he asked pointedly when none of the executives introduced themselves. The executives continued looking at him in silence as Sid continued to glare at them.

"Sid Burn," began number 6. "Mercenary for hire wanted in several states pre-OMAR for countless felonies regarding industrial espionage. Post-OMAR has remained very elusive."

"Apparently not elusive enough," Sid joked at having still managed to be contacted by OMAR agents.

"Typical standard fee for services, 10 million dollars," said number 5 oblivious to his remark. "Though this number can vary widely depending on the type of operation required."

"Aggressive, violent, pyromaniac," continued 6. "Was a member of her crown majesty's advanced weapons research before an 'accident' in 1968 resulted in the destruction of his lab and the mysterious disappearance of all weaponry being tested along with Mr. Burn himself. Resurfaced in 1971 and in two years became the leading mercenary amongst global Fortune 100 companies."

"You know if I'd known you were making a biography of me I'd have brought pictures," said Sid looking at the group annoyed. "So what the hell do you want with me?"

"Previously hired by OMAR secondary unit…," began number 5.

THOOM

The Executives stopped talking as Sid had fired his shotgun at the ceiling above but otherwise remained silent.

"Mr. Burn what is the state of the world today?" inquired Number 2 leaning forward but still not visible in the light. Sid thought about it for a little bit.

"Chaotic," he decided upon. "You own a third of the world, a third of the world has turned on itself, and another third nobody knows about. Or that's the last I heard… two years ago."

"It's accurate enough," said number 2. "And what of the United States?"

"I don't know…or care," answered Sid truthfully. "All travel and communication with our 'friends' across the pond has been cut off aside from the occasional stray broadcast. I assume you know more."

"And you would be correct," agreed number 2. "The United States is in a state of martial law due to intense rioting in the major cities and all law enforcement and military personnel have been called into them to bring 'peace'."

"So the outskirts are vulnerable," Sid reasoned knowing where this was going and glad to finally be getting underway.

"Yes," said number 2 pleased with the mercenary's grasp on things, their dealings with other mercenaries in the past had been less than fruitful when it came to intelligence. And for a man of Sid's price, he had better come above average.

"So you want me to…," began Sid determined to make sure he and they were completely on the same page. To his surprise, number 1 leaned forward.

"We want you to eliminate America's oil and alternative energy supplies to bring them to their knees and force them to become subservient to _us_," said Number 1's voice dripping with evil. Sid nodded.

"Mission specifics?" he asked.

"Will be provided to you upon your leaving," said number 1 nodding.

"…And my fee?" said Sid, the most important part of the transaction.

"Down payment confirmed, full payment upon completion of the assignment," said number 1. And with that the lights died leaving Sid once more in darkness before the massive concrete door behind him slowly opened pouring some outside light in and the soldiers standing outside with their holstered weapons. Sid looked at them before turning and staring at the darkened areas where the Executives had sat, deep in thought. The soldiers began motioning with their guns as Sid got back into the Manta and threw it in reverse. He slowly backed up his car, but right before exiting the room, he jammed on the high beams and light flooded into the chamber. To his astonishment, the canyon was completely empty, no chairs nothing, while the guards instantly closed their eyes and turned away from the room so as not to look inside. The door finally closed and the guards instantly aimed their assault rifles at Sid who held up his hands in surrender.

"Sorry boys, slip of the hand and all that," he said amused. The workers scowled at him before jerking their gun barrels for him to follow them again. Sid performed a turnaround, once more passing the Palamino, and exited the facility to the outside sun. In the shadows, someone snapped a photo before vanishing.

Washington D.C.: The occasional stray looter could be seen running around on the deserted and trash filled streets but otherwise they remained empty. Naturally the capital of the country was 'safer' than the rest of the country, but it was still dangerous to be outside by oneself without a permit. Especially now, after a group had successfully infiltrated the city and launched a failed attack on the White House, severally damaging the outside fence and forward grounds before being cut down by the Secret Service and the military a couple weeks back, and still there was blood on the front lawn. In the FBI Building, it was a tense situation as the Agency did it's best to perform with any sort of efficiency after four years of chaos. Money was down, agents were dwindling, incidents were rising, and it was all getting to be too much for the beleaguered individuals still sticking around.

And it was about to get worse.

"Son of a bitch!" shouted Deputy Director, and recently promoted from agent, Johnson as he held up a sheet of printed paper that had come from the recently acquired, and extremely experimental, Exxon Qwik fax machine that had been confiscated when the government had nationalized all of the local oil agencies to try and control the rampant explosion of gasoline prices.

"Johnson; restrain yourself!" shouted FBI Acting Director John Chase, who had been promoted to the position after former Director Kelley had been reassigned to the newly, and barely, elected President Jimmy Carter's White House cabinet. The Secret Service had deemed it too dangerous for former President Ford to leave the area and so he had stayed on as Carter's vice-president. No one was really sure what had happened to the rest of the former presidents who were still alive, many were too afraid to find out.

"Sorry sir," said Johnson sheepishly. "It's just…"

With that he dumped the paper onto the table revealing a muddied but still identifiable black and white photo of Sid Burn in his Palamino in the garage.

"Yes this _could_ be a problem," was all Chase was willing to admit to.

"'Could' be a problem?" said Johnson disgusted. "Sir, this _is_ a problem, OMAR has finally made its move on us."

"We don't know that," said Chase, very reluctant to leap to conclusions, especially with their current circumstances. "He could be there for any number of reasons and could've been hired to attack any number of targets around the world."

"Sir…," began Johnson warningly. They both knew the truth that with talks breaking down between OMAR and the United States, some sort of confrontation would be coming. Apparently this was it.

"Then what do you propose we do?" said Chase aggravated. "We don't have the manpower to deal with this because if it does end up being a dud then we're in hot water."

"Funny you mention the word 'man' power sir," said Johnson as a smile threatened to break out across his face. Chase looked at him confused before he figured out what he was talking about.

"No," he said immediately shaking his head vigorously. "Absolutely not!"

"She'd be perfect for the job!" protested Johnson.

"She's a rookie!" Chase shot back. "Hell, she only made it through the academy because more than half her teachers had quit and she was rushed through so the others could make a break for it as well since she was the only person in her class!"

"Yes but think about the benefits if she does go!" said Johnson apparently seeing something Chase could not.

"Like what?" the Director snorted.

"One, it might actually restore some public faith in us that we _can_ do our jobs. Two, she's the most photogenic person we've got on our staff and she'd look great in the publicity campaign we could launch when she succeeded," said Johnson and before Chase could protest. "And finally, if she died, then we won't have to listen to her constant whining about equal opportunity for women at the bureau!"

That last comment made Chase think for a moment.

"You'd better be right about this because if _nothing_ happens," he began.

"Sir even if nothing happens I don't see her being able to make it back here alive to tell her tale," said Johnson frankly. Chase nodded at that.

"Alright, let's go get her," he said as he rolled around in his chair to his filing cabinet and reached into one of the drawers and produced a file.

"Chassey Blue, consider yourself 'assigned'," said the Director as he pulled out a rubber stamp and smacked it on top of the photo of the blue eyed blond haired female agent.

Las Vegas: Fires raged up and down the Strip as rioters clashed with the remnants of the police and military, giving the area an eerie glow in the nighttime sky. On the streets was only the occasional vehicle, usually armed to the teeth to prevent theft, one of which was a 1974 Strider with bullet holes puncturing the trunk in the back.

"It just gets worse and worse," said Jefferson Torque with sadness in his eyes at the rioting. He was sitting in the passenger seat of the car with his three brothers, two in the back seat and the final one driving the car past the various mobs and fires.

"But what can we do?" asked Jeremiah Torque helpless. "I mean I want to help them as much as anyone but..."

"Look, one man can make a difference," insisted Jebediah Torque. "Isn't that right John?"

The final brother and driver of the vehicle, John Torque said nothing but continued to drive in silence.

"John?" asked Jebediah concerned. John shifted his eyes to briefly glare at his brother.

"One man _cannot_ make a difference," he stated angrily. "I know that more than anyone."

The rest of the Torques sighed at that.

"John what happened with that accident was not your fault," insisted Jeremiah. "You cannot continue to beat yourself up over it!"

"A man is dead because of me and nothing will bring him back," Torque resolved. "How am I supposed to live with myself as a result of that? How can I save these people when I couldn't save one man?"

"John, come back to work!" Jefferson demanded. John didn't say anything but just retreated further into himself. The other brothers sighed and shook their heads.

"You know John, two people died that day," Jeremiah said coolly. "Because you're just as lost. This gambling…and drinking…and plodding away aimlessly on that speaker of yours… That's not living. I just hope you come to realize that before it's too late."

And then the car fell silent as the sound of explosions and gunfire ripped through the air as they continued down the strip.

White Star Lines Trucking: Workers rushed everywhere filling the various semi-trucks on the docks with product as trucks rushed out from the docks anxious to leave Las Vegas as quickly as possible. Above the main loading area, the dock supervisor was having a heated conversation with his lead trucker.

"I still say this is a mistake, you don't know what it's like on the roads out there without protection!" protested Convoy. A 40-year old trucker, Convoy had ridden the roads for nearly 20 years and was a veteran when it came to knowing the system. He also knew that since OMAR, the roads had become home to various road gangs anxious to get their hands on both the vehicles, and mainly, the gasoline. The cities had become deserts and the roads had become battlefields.

"Look," said the boss not wanting to hear it. "Our clients want these products and they're willing to pay through the teeth for it. Money means you get paid, money means you get gas, and money means you survive for another day. If you think you can survive working independently then by all means go ahead. Until then, get back in your truck and get back on the road!"

Convoy growled angrily but got up out of his chair and headed for the exit as the lights briefly flickered.

"Oh and Convoy," began the boss as the trucker was about out the door. "If you loose this shipment, don't bother coming back."

Convoy paused at the doorway before donning his cowboy hat.

"Even if I do manage to deliver this shipment, I _won't_," he stated darkly before leaving the doorway and the boss behind. The boss watched him go, sighed and briefly rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then picked up his phone only to hear no dial tone on the other end. Outside the window, Convoy's 1972 Moth Truck with trailer shot out onto the nighttime streets and vanished into the distance.

Las Vegas Strip Club: In a back alley, a lone male strip club sat with a blinking neon sign promising that every night was 'ladies night'. Out in the small parking lot, sat a 1970's Clydesdale 4x4 with two occupants inside staring out at the door, more specifically the sign that read: 'now hiring'.

"I don't want to do this," the driver grumbled.

"Slick, we don't have a choice we need to make money and this is the easiest place to do it," said the companion. Inside the car sat former male models Adrian Barney in the passenger seat and in the driver's seat sat 24-year old Slick Clyde.

"There has to be other ways to make money," said Slick, extremely adverse to sinking this low in his life by having to dance for table scraps.

"How?" demanded Adrian. "Face it Slick, you're a male model there aren't too many career options open to us. Especially now."

Slick's expression turned especially sour at that comment. He'd been told that his entire life and he was getting sick of it.

"I promise you Adrian, I will be somebody someday," he swore. Adrian laughed.

"Slick you've said that ever since I've known you," he reminded him. "Good luck with that. Until then, less chatting and more stripping."

With that he exited the vehicle leaving Slick behind with his thoughts. He looked into the rearview mirror at his own reflection. Sure he was looking good, and sure he was vain and narcissistic, but he was entitled to be. He was destined for greatness and one day he would show them all. One day.

"_Better get this over with_," he decided before hesitating and retrieving his sawed off shotgun out of the back of the vehicle and pumping the trigger. He hid the thing underneath his flannel shirt and exited the vehicle and headed inside. But as soon as he left the parking lot, more bright lights shined in as several motorcycles came to a halt.

"It's time to make some easy money boys," said gang leader Johnny Stabler to his crew as the rolled into the lot.

Atlantic Ocean: An OMAR Boeing 747 Cargo Plane roared across the ocean headed for the Americas.

"I must admit, I am surprised to find anything in the air after OMAR took over," Sid had to admit. He was currently sitting in the plush seats of the second level of the craft with his liaison, Mr. Leonard, who was going over the plans of Sid's mission.

"He who owns the gas owns the world," was all the man was willing to admit to before once more returning to the dossier that was spread all over the table between them.

"So where exactly are we going?" asked Sid curious. "Because I know America is not about to let anything fly into its territory."

"You're correct in that assumption," said Mr. Leonard agreeing with him. "Which is why we are flying to Mexico."

"Wait hold up, you can't into the United States from…," began Sid before Mr. Leonard held up his hand to stop him.

"We have ways of getting into the country," he promised. "Now then, we'll be landing in Mexico City where our local contacts, the Coyote Cartel have captured that portion of the city," continued Mr. Leonard. "From there you will be introduced to your team…"

Sid had been mechanically nodding after every statement Mr. Leonard had made until he heard that one.

"Team?" he asked confused. "I don't work with a team, I work alone."

"OMAR has decided that this operation is both too complex and too important to leave to one man," responded Mr. Leonard curtly.

"It's non-negotiable," responded Sid not backing down. "A team would only slow me down and get in each other's way."

"If you don't want to participate anymore that's fine," said Mr. Leonard leaning back in his chair. "Just keep in mind that in order to conserve fuel we'll simply toss you out right now and head back to Europe."

Sid fumed at that statement as his blood began to boil. But ultimately he said nothing. If OMAR wanted to botch this assignment, so be it, he still had his down payment.

"So who exactly is on this…team?" he said, the word sound terrible in his mouth. Mr. Leonard nodded as he produced photographs.

"They're a rowdy bunch but…we have faith in their abilities," began Mr. Leonard. "First one is Loki. He's a test pilot reject from a military base that was thrown out for borderline insanity regarding his ramblings about testing alien saucers."

"Terrific," said Sid looking at the image of a tall bald man with soulless eyes clutching a missile.

"He'll come in handy because that base of his, Site 4, is home to America's only remaining Weapons R&D lab that's on your hit list," continued Mr. Leonard. "Next up is a man who refers to himself as Beezwax."

Sid looked at a photo of an old portly man with a straw hat, coveralls, and a large white beard. He could almost be Santa Claus if not for the psychotic look in his eyes.

"Apparently he has had a vendetta against the government ever since the Los Alamos test irradiated his prize bees," said Mr. Leonard, just as bewildered about these characters as Sid was. "He took his Stag Pickup and went on a rampage with it against various government sites before being arrested. We sprung him since he possesses knowledge of the entire layout of vital spots of the southwest without the need of any map."

Sid then picked up a photo of a middle-aged bearded man clad entirely in a disco outfit.

"Name's Boogie," explained Mr. Leonard. "A self-proclaimed disco fanatic, he's been moonlighting as a low-level enforcer for the Coyote Cartel and we figure we can put him to use as well. He's familiar with any sort of law enforcement you might run across on your mission."

Sid held his head in his hands.

"Next we have Molo," said Mr. Leonard just wanting to get the descriptions over with. The photo was one of a young obese teenager. "We caught him knocking off one of our gas stations and were about to execute him when he overheard your name and pleaded for the opportunity to work alongside you. In the interests of future public relations we're allowing him that opportunity."

"Terrific," said Sid beginning to feel a headache. "Look, is there anyone _sane_ going on this mission?"

"There's Nina Loco," began Mr. Leonard trying to be helpful. "But her only job is to ferry you into the United States and transport oil and weapons to you as needed and transfer back the oil and weapons that you capture."

"No living off of the land?" asked Sid nonplussed.

"Well you are free to take whatever gasoline you can find and we will allow you to use some of the weapons you find at Site 4 but ultimately this is an OMAR funded operation and we do expect some return on investment _beyond_ just America's collapse," Mr. Leonard reasoned.

"Of course," said Sid sardonically. Mr. Leonard narrowed his eyes at the mercenary but otherwise said nothing about his response.

"The good news is your second in command," said Mr. Leonard pleased as he showed a photo of a young African-American woman staring blankly at the camera. "Her name is Houston and she's a top level OMAR enforcer. She'll take any order without question so long as it does not compromise OMAR in any way."

Sid looked at Mr. Leonard disturbed by that but couldn't thing of any possible questions to ask to alleviate his feelings.

"Well you'd better get some rest, we still have a long flight ahead of us," said Mr. Leonard with a creepy smile. Sid just shook his head and slowly turned in, anxious to get his mission put behind him.

"_It's all for the money_," he assured himself. "_It's all for the money…_"

Nevada Desert: A lone van sat in the desert with a single occupant on top next to the mounted antenna on the roof, listening to whatever signals he could find. The person was so engrossed that he failed to notice a red and black dune buggy pulling up the road before coming to a halt nearby.

"Hey Dave!" shouted Sheila, a 19-year old college student. "Dave!"

The 26-year old hippie, Dave, heard the yelling over his headphone and yanked them off.

"Oh hey sister what's up?" he asked with a big grin. Sheila just took an annoyed posture in her black leather ensemble, coupled with her dark hair falling all around her, and her dark makeup, she looked like a Hell's Angel biker chick. But in reality it was all a façade she put up to stand up to the outside world that was now falling apart.

"I'm not your sister doofus," she stated. Though in actuality they practically were, since the man who had raised Sheila, her uncle Convoy, rarely had time to be with her, he had constantly left Dave in charge of her wellbeing.

"You're the doofus, doofus," Dave shot back as he looked up at the stars and smiled. He always watched the stars, they always seemed to calm him. And in light of matters here on Earth, he constantly dreamed of what life would be like soaring amongst them.

"_To seek out new life and new civilizations_," he thought, recalling his favorite TV show. Sheila cracked a smile at his statement before turning somber.

"What is it?" asked Dave concerned. He knew it had to be important because gasoline was scarce and Sheila knew better than to drive if she didn't have to.

"I've had it Dave, I've really had it," Sheila swore.

"With what?" asked Dave feigning ignorance.

"With life, with college, with everything!" said Sheila upset. "I don't have a future anymore so how am I supposed to go on living a 'normal' life?"

"You have to," said Dave, to entirely happy with playing reason. "You need to stay in college because the one weapon that will help you survive is knowledge. Because believe me when I say you don't want to wind up like me."

"But Dave you graduated from MIT," Sheila pointed out.

"Yeah but what I have done with that knowledge?" Dave responded bluntly. Sheila sighed.

"Things will get better, I promise you," Dave swore, also somewhat depressed at the current situation of the world. Both waited there in silence before a pop filled the air as in the distance, an explosion erupted from Las Vegas.

"So you pick up anything on that?" asked Sheila trying to change the subject. "Or are you just using it for a pirate radio broadcast?"

Dave laughed. "Well sensors show no signs of intelligent life but here's hoping."

Sheila nodded as she briefly held her head before looking up at him.

"Be safe D," she said. Dave nodded.

"I will S," he responded with a grin. "I will. And don't worry, something will materialize soon."

Sheila gave one last smile before getting back in her dune buggy and taking off back down the road into the town that was on fire. Dave took one last look at the sky before hopping off of the roof and getting back into his van and getting some sleep as the sunlight slowly began to creep over the horizon.

Mexico City: The OMAR 747 cruised in low through the smoke rising from the city from the various gang fights before landing in the remains of the international airport. Instantly several armored vehicles roared across the tarmac along with a quartet of attack helicopters as they escorted the plane to a nearby hanger. As the airplane was almost into the hanger its nose cone opened and Sid's Manta came rocketing out of it and onto the pavement below.

"Well Mr. Burn," said Mr. Leonard pleased as he sat in the passenger seat. "Welcome to Mexico City. Today you unleash hell."


	2. Intro II

A/N: The car names I'm taking from the names given in the game which are generic and don't exist. The reason is that I don't know what cars they're really driving aside from Slick who drives a Ford Bronco. And yes I've taken liberties with the John Torque character but I didn't want to have him as just a John Shaft knockoff. If this story wasn't as serious as it is I would've had him be that character and maybe I will spoof this story by writing something like that, but not today.

Nuclear Plant: The Strider roared to a halt in front of the building as the Torque brothers emerged leaving John in the car.

"John," Jebediah pleaded one last time. "Please come in."

John Torque just shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, but I need to find my own answers and I won't find them here," he said with tears threatening to form in his eyes. Jebediah nodded reluctantly.

"Just remember, no matter what you do and no matter what happens to you, we'll always love you," Jebediah promised. John nodded his head before turning the key in the ignition as the engine revved up to full speed and the Strider peeled off in a cloud of smoke.

"Good luck, John," Jebediah whispered as he and his brothers went back to work as nuclear power plant engineers.

Washington D.C.: Chassey Blue, 26-year old blond haired blue eyed supermodel figured FBI agent, stood hunched underneath the hood of her 1967 Rattler, reaching for the spark plugs. Though the car was getting on in the years, she continued to keep it in as best shape she could since getting it as a sweet-sixteen present. The car had changed her life because up until then she'd been nothing more than the stereotypical snooty cheerleader. But with the car, her parents didn't have the money to send it to the mechanic each time something broke and one night in a heated frustration against her parents she had taken it upon herself to try and fix the thing knowing she'd fail so her parents would have to send it in to get fixed…or buy her a new one. To her surprise not only was she able to fix the car, but she had enjoyed it too. Subsequently, she opened her own repair shop on the side to help those less fortunate then her and grew to love helping out her common man. That desire soon turned to further career goals and she found the idea of working in the FBI to help others to be something worth pursuing. And so she had made her way to the Academy and been rushed through it so her professors could bolt from the nation's capital and the ensuing riots.

"_And what a wild ride it's been…_," thought Chassey disappointed at how mundane it had become as she finally popped out the burnt plugs and was reaching for some new ones when she heard a voice drifting down towards her.

"Hey hot stuff what's up?" came a voice from behind her, reeking with machismo. Chassey's teeth gritted together angrily as she tried to concentrate on fixing her car.

"Yeah, I know," the voice continued. "I'd be speechless too if I was talking to someone of my…stature."

Instead of counting to ten, Agent Blue began popping out spark plugs as her numbers and slowly replacing them.

"So come on baby, why don't you quit spending on your time fixing that piece of junk and make time for a real man," said the mystery speaker. That was the last straw for Chassey, no one insulted her car, not in her presence! So she leaned in further as if to reach for something buried deep in the engine block as her high heeled shoe shot out for leverage, right into the one place Chassey knew would hurt.

"Ah shit!" shouted the speaker as they fell down in pain. Chassey got up from underneath the hood and began wiping her oil streaked hands on her rag.

"Oh I'm sorry Jim," she said innocently. "I didn't realize you were standing right there."

"I'll get your for this you stupid bitch!" shouted Jim as he was still on the ground in pain.

"Anytime," Chassey promised. And here she thought the new hire would be a nice guy for a change. But in this nearly post-apocalyptic world, all men had seemingly become pigs. Still, inwardly she knew that somewhere out there was a caring and compassionate individual who felt as strongly about helping out the downtrodden as she did. She just didn't know if she would ever find him, or if she did it would be too late.

"You'll have to wait Agent Smithers," said Director Chase as he appeared at the garage entrance. "Because right now Ms. Blue is on extended assignment."

"What?" said Chassey stunned as the Director approached and handed her a dossier.

"That's right," Chase confirmed. "You're needed in the American Southwest."

Chassey's blood turned cold at that. A long-term far away assignment signaled being buried by the Bureau.

"Oh I see-," she began upset ready to shred the dossier in half. Chase held up his hand to stop her. Jim Smithers slowly got to his feet and the Director shot him a pointed look as he scowled angrily before hobbling off.

"I assure you Ms. Blue, this is a genuine assignment," he promised, which was 'technically' true. "What do you know about a man by the name of Sid Burn?"

Chassey thought about it for a few moments.

"He's bad news," she decided on. "If he's still alive, no one's really sure what's become of him since OMAR."

"We have it on good authority that he is now working for OMAR and is headed here to cripple our remaining energy resources," the Director responded. Chassey appeared thoughtful at this before she picked up the dossier and opened it, revealing the fax photo of Sid in his Manta.

"Well that doesn't help much he could be coming from anywhere," said Chassey dismissively. She wanted to stop Sid too, but the United States was still a large chunk of land to patrol with just one car and limited gasoline.

"Yes but we know where he's coming from," responded the Director. "Right now he's in Mexico City, we know that because it's the closest OMAR stronghold to the United States, and he's going to be taking Route 17 to get into the country and gradually make his way to Flagstaff."

"Why Flagstaff of all places?" asked Chassey confused.

"Because OMAR has its only real presence there and it's a gateway to just about the entire southwest where Sid is likely to hit," explained the boss. "It's all in the packet."

"And I'm supposed to combat this menace, how?" asked Chassey doubtful.

"You're to report to Dulles where the military will give you a lift to Phoenix. En route they're going to outfit your vehicle with the latest in vehicular weaponry from mosquito guns to interceptor missiles to sky hammer mortars and more along with a special project we've been cooking up for a mission like this," said the Director. "So go, clean up this mess, save us all."

With that he was gone leaving Chassey alone with the packet. She looked at it and then at her car.

"Well…let's get on with the mission hmm?" she asked of her car. The car didn't respond as Chassey shook her head lightly before shutting the hood and getting in the car before peeling off out the exit.

Mexico City: The Coyotes were sitting in an abandoned classroom that had once housed high school students. The place was wrecked as a result of the constant infighting amongst the various gangs controlling the city, but it was functional and that was all that mattered for OMAR. Sitting at the various desks, was the ragtag group that OMAR had assembled to destroy America's energy reserves. Why OMAR thought they could pull off the job was anybody's guess, but they had to do it and Sid Burn was _not_ happy about it. Molo, the obese teenager, was cramming a meatball sub down his throat and dripping sauce everywhere. Beezwax was sitting near him and dividing his time between arguing with the teen and working on some sort of metal beehive. Loki was off in the corner of the room assembling and then disassembling various firearms in an almost mechanical fashion, still with that vacant look in his eyes from the photo. Boogie meanwhile was in front of the classroom choreographing some disco moves on the chalkboard. He'd tried putting the moves on Houston who had mainly ignored him until he'd said they should blow OMAR and go have their own fun upon which she promptly threatened to break his arm if he deserted the place. Sid had seen all of this trying to get a grasp on who his team was and now he was ready to get this over with.

"It's Sid Burn!" shouted Molo excitedly as soon as the mercenary stepped into the room. The teen anxiously got up to go and hug his hero but his feet got caught on a chair and he crashed to the ground rattling the chairs and desks around him. Beezwax gave a good belly laugh at that as his foot slowly moved away from the bottom of the chair that Molo had tripped on. The teen growled angrily and was about to tackle the beekeeper when Sid interjected.

"Let's get something straight," he yelled at them to get their attention. "I don't like any of you. If it were up to me I would be doing this mission alone and you would be left behind. But OMAR says differently and they're the ones paying the bill so I don't have a choice but to include you in this. But we'll act as if _I_ am the only one on this mission. You will follow my orders without question, you will follow my plans without disagreement, and we will succeed. Fail to do this and don't be surprised if some accident were to befall you. Is that understood?"

Rumbles of affirmation came from across the room. The group just primarily wanted to raise hell and that was it. Houston however said nothing and just sat there staring blankly at the wall. The team looked at her confused before Mr. Leonard groaned.

"Boys!" he shouted down the hallway as some scientists in white labcoats came in and swarmed around the woman.

"What's going on?" demanded Sid.

"It's not your concern," Mr. Leonard dismissively. Sid produced his rifle and aimed it at him.

"I think it is," he responded. "If there's a problem with a member of my team I need to know."

Mr. Leonard sighed. "Boys."

The scientists briefly pulled back revealing a metal armband on Houston's arm that was covered with microchips. It took Sid a moment to realize what that meant.

"You didn't," said Sid in disbelief.

"Well we did," said Mr. Leonard unapologetically. "She's effectively a cyborg that works for us now. She's extremely experimental but the results have proven very effective. In time we hope to mass produce our own cyborgs to use as our own personal soldiers."

"But is she…," began Sid.

"No," responded Mr. Leonard shaking his head. "She was human…once. The specifics aren't necessary but simply put she was 'chosen' to participate in this experiment from a list of candidates. Perfect athletic form, sharp intellect, the works."

"Yeah but what good is she if you've effectively turned her into a vegetable?" asked Beezwax doubtful. Sid nodded in agreement, somewhat impressed with the beekeeper's grasp on the situation. Maybe there was some hope for this team after all.

"She still is capable of independent thought, it's just that sometimes conflicts arise between her programming and those thoughts and she seizes up like this," said Mr. Leonard, not really believing he was having this conversation with a bunch of grunts.

"Is it possible her original persona could assert itself _over_ her programming?" asked Sid. "I don't want any trouble from her if she starts having second thoughts about what we're doing."

"It won't," Mr. Leonard promised. Or at least he hoped it wouldn't. The technology that 'made' Houston was still in its infancy, but OMAR had demanded this field test and the scientists in charge of her had to go along with it. Of course he wouldn't pass that tidbit on to the team, the less they knew the better.

"It'd better not," Sid swore. "Can you fix her?"

"She's fixed," answered the scientist. Houston's eyes blinked and she focused on the group watching her.

"WHAT IS WRONG?" asked Houston in a mechanical sounding voice. The team was briefly taken aback by this but just chose to let it go.

"We need to talk about this later," Sid said quietly to Beezwax who nodded in agreement before he announced to the rest of the team. "Alright let's go."

"Now?" said Molo surprised. Sid turned to face him with narrowed eyes as Molo gulped.

"Follow your orders, yes sir!" he said excitedly before giving a military salute. Sid exited the room with the others in tow. From outside the window, a Manta, Stag Pickup with a camper attached to the bed, School Bus, Leprechaun, Glenn 4x4, and the Palomino from earlier shot out across the school yard and roared onto the battle damaged freeway headed North, each armed to the teeth for action.

Las Vegas: Sheila was lying on her bed studying some notes while her eight-track player was blaring out music from AC/DC when the sound of a large truck was heard above the music. Getting up anxiously she ran to the door as her uncle Convoy stepped in and walked straight into the kitchen and began packing as much food as he could.

"Running away?" asked Sheila dryly. Convoy's expression darkened but he continued packing.

"I've got a run to make," he explained. Sheila's eyes widened.

"But you said-," she began.

"I know what I said!" Convoy shouted. "But we need the money and so I don't have a choice."

"Oh I see," said Sheila upset. "This is because of me-."

"It's not about you!" said Convoy not wanting to get into this argument again. "Even if I didn't have to pay for your college, I'd still need money for myself."

Sheila sulked at that statement. College money had long been a point of contention between them. Sheila didn't want to go to save money but Convoy had been as adamant about Dave that she had to. Convoy had never gone and though he'd been happy as a trucker, he knew that was no kind of life for Sheila. And when OMAR had risen and the world had fallen, he knew it was only more important to finish her education now because the longer she waited, the less likely it would still be around. Sheila knew it too and yet they still argued about it. Maybe because it was only part of a larger problem regarding the tragic death of Sheila's parents that the two had never really gotten around to talking about, even after five years had passed. And so they had sort of drifted apart with Convoy constantly going on runs and Sheila taking college classes. They both secretly hoped that _something_ would bring them together but they just couldn't figure out what that would be since they almost had nothing in common.

"Have you seen John?" asked Convoy breaking their lines of thought. Sheila shook her head.

"I saw Uncle Torque at the gas station a couple days ago but that was about it," she recalled. John Torque and Convoy had been friends for years and he was practically family like Dave was.

"Great, that means he's probably at some casino getting drunk again," Convoy grumbled as he finished packing what food he could and then walked over to a locked cabinet and opened it revealing numerous firearms that he began removing from the shelf.

"I'll be your point man," offered Sheila, knowing why Convoy was looking for John. Before the incident that had drove John into depression, the two used to run shipments on the weekends with John as the blocker against the various highway gangs that had sprung up post-OMAR. But that was awhile ago.

"I don't think so," said Convoy dismissively. "It's too dangerous."

"Oh c'mon, between me and Dave we could take out anything that comes our way," Sheila insisted.

"No and that's final," said Convoy ending the conversation. "Stay here, finish your finals, and try and enjoy your summer. I should be back soon."

"But-," began Sheila protesting.

"Stay here," said Convoy forcefully. And with that he was gone leaving her behind.

Strip Club: Slick Clyde was standing silently in the background of the seedy place, still having an internal debate about whether or not he should be doing this as Adrian talked with the club owner. Behind him, one of the strippers was giving his routine to the cat calls and money throwing crowd consisting of people Slick would barely call 'women'. But he needed the money so he could get out of this place and so he was torn between two worlds. But that tear soon turned into a fissure as a motorcycle came crashing through the front door and was soon followed by several other bikers who ran into firing wildly at the ceiling as patrons and strippers ran everywhere. Slick just stood there arms crossed as he watched the chaos through narrowed eyes.

"Slick, what're we going to do?" pleaded Adrian terrified. Slick looked at him uncaring.

"Nothing," he responded calmly. Sure he had the shotgun, but he wasn't stupid enough to go out in a hail of gunfire. After all he had a strong desire to live to see tomorrow. The biker gang canvassed the whole area as with the exception of Slick everyone was in a panicky mood.

"Hello boys and girls," said the biker leader Johnny Stabler as he entered in with his completely leather ensemble and thick biker glasses. "I'm here because the ATM isn't accepting my card and you just so happen to be my local bank."

"Pathetic," Sid muttered. Instantly he found a gun aimed at his head.

"You say something?" demanded the biker holding the weapon as everyone turned to face him.

"Yeah," said Slick coolly. "I said you should stop boasting and just finish the job. The more you wait the more chance the police will show up."

"Yeah but no police are going to stop the bullet I'm about to put into your head," said the biker angry as Sid slowly reached for his rifle.

"Hold on," said Johnny interjecting. "It's not often we get an 'intellect' in a place like this and they say a good mind is not a thing to waste so easily."

"So back off," said Slick forcefully as the biker was startled by the force in the man's words. The other biker's laughed as the person holstered their weapon.

"Slick, no," said Adrian pissing his pants in fear as he clung to him. The gang laughed at him.

"Who is that, your lover?" asked Johnny amused. Slick shook his head.

"A friend, a coward mainly," he explained.

"So you don't care if I shoot him?" he asked producing his weapon and aiming it at the individual. Slick thought about it as Adrian almost began whimpering.

"If you think he's worth the bullet," Slick said simply. Adrian looked at him in a mixture of shock and disbelief as Slick didn't even bother returning the look and just continued staring at Johnny.

"Heartless?" asked Johnny.

"Practical," responded Slick. "One less bullet for me to dodge later on."

Johnny nodded and holstered the weapon as Adrian whispered a silent thanks to Slick before running for the exit.

BANG

Adrian dropped to the ground dead from a hole in his chest as Johnny slowly lowered his still smoking gun.

"Yet altogether not too bright," he commented before returning to Slick as he flicked out his hand and his men began demanding money from the others in the room. "Unlike you though. But even you have to admit that the police won't concern themselves with such lower level violence."

"No, you're right," Slick agreed. "But in time the people will get fed up with things like what you're doing and they'll take matters into their own hands. They'll become vigilantes."

"Like you?" Johnny figured.

"Possibly," Slick had to admit.

"But for which side?" asked Johnny. "Don't the good guys usually not like the innocent to be killed?"

"I'll be who I choose to be, not who anyone wants me to be," Slick resolved. And that actually was the one thing he was certain of throughout his whole disjointed life.

"Well Slick," said Johnny getting up. "I wish you luck."

"You're not going to kill me?" asked Slick slightly disappointed. Johnny shook his head.

"No in fact I think I'll help you on your journey," he said as he began counting twenty dollar bills and a ten-dollar bill.

"Here's a hundred and fifty bucks, use it wisely," he said with a grin as he put it in Slick's outer pocket and his flannel shirt. Johnny then narrowed his eyes and poked Slick's chest where the shotgun was hanging but the male model just cross his arms in front of himself. Johnny nodded and made no move to retrieve the weapon and headed for the exit with his crew. Slick's eyes narrowed at the man as he thought about using the shotgun on him and becoming leader of their gang. But before he could decide, Johnny made the decision for him.

"Kid," he said. "Don't try to be a hero you're not cut out for it."

With that he was gone leaving Slick alone. He looked at the scared people still in the building as an evil look passed briefly between his eyes before he headed for the exit as well.

Casino: John Torque lay slumped on the counter of the bar as behind him people gambled away and enjoyed themselves as if the world wasn't falling apart at the seams. People often came to Vegas to forget about the outside world and all of those here were certainly doing a good job of it. John gambled occasionally but mostly he just drank to forget everything. Right now he was on his fourth screwdriver and though the bartender should have cut him off at some point, but with the way the world was, cutoffs had become a thing of the past. All the bartender did was remind him every so often he should lay off the bottle but that was as far as his obligation went. John meanwhile was content to drink himself to oblivion but today something changed that.

"John," said a voice cutting through the murkiness of John's alcohol induced stupor.

"Whaddaya want?" he asked, his speech verbally slurred as he didn't even bother trying to focus on the individual trying to talk to him.

"John I need you to quit drinking and come and help me," insisted the voice.

"Jus…leave me alone," said Torque on the verge of passing out. He shakily reached for his bottle but it was snatched away from him.

"Damnit John I'm sick of your self-pity bullshit," the voice said angrily. "Now you get yourself sobered up because we have a run to make and I can't do it alone."

That got John's attention.

"C-Convoy?" he asked looking up drearily at the trucker. Through the murkiness he could barely make out the image of the trucker and his large cowboy hat.

"Nice to see you still recognize me," said Convoy grateful for that at least. Hopefully he could get his friend sobered up quickly because they had a schedule to make. John tried to concentrate as his head began throbbing as Convoy ordered a coffee, some water, and some aspirin. He swallowed the water and the aspirin before giving the coffee to John. The African-American drank the stuff and laid back down before every nerve in his body exploded with energy.

"Ah shit!" he shouted as he snapped up with his eyes wide open. Those around him looked at the man briefly before returning to their drinks and thoughts.

"What the hell was in this?" demanded John as he held his nose in pain as his entire sinus cavity cleared itself out as he sneezed all over the counter.

"Sugar pills clearly," said Convoy with a grin. John groaned.

"If I die because of this I'm coming back to haunt you," he proclaimed.

"Look forward to it," said Convoy glad to have his friend firing on all cylinders again. He paid John's bill and helped him toward the exit as the man occasionally stumbled. He led him outside the glitz of the casino and into the early morning air and towards the parking lot. Sitting at the far end was Convoy's Mack Truck and trailer next to John's Strider. The front of Convoy's truck was armed to the teeth with exterior weaponry consisting of everything from machine guns to rocket launchers and more. John's car however was awkwardly bare of anything. But that soon changed when Convoy punched the hood and weaponry sprouted up all over the vehicle as the trunk popped open revealing a massive speaker system buried in it.

"This is new," said Convoy walking around and looking at the thing.

"It's an experiment in soundwaves," said John as his head rested against the top of the trunk. "Now can I please go home and get some sleep?"

"Nope," said Convoy shutting the thing closed. "We've got to go if we're going to make it on time."

"And where the hell are we going?" said John yawning as they walked between the two vehicles. He didn't really want to go on the run, but even in his still hazy state he knew it was suicide for Convoy to go it alone. John sure as hell wouldn't be responsible for two men's deaths. And besides, the fresh air might do him some good. His brothers had been insisting he leave town for awhile now and this was as good an opportunity as any.

"Flagstaff," answered Convoy getting into his cab.

"Flagstaff?" said John disappointed. "Sounds boring."

"Ah but John it's never the destination but the journey that's what counts," said Convoy amused as he started up his rig and began to pull ahead.

"Sounds boring," John repeated as he shook his head vigorously before at least somewhat coming to his senses. The Strider peeled out as well and took up an escort position directly in front of the truck and both headed east.

But unknown to them, two prying eyes were watching them leave.

"Did you get where they're going?" asked Sheila. She was standing next to Dave who was using a specially designed to device to hear conversations from far away.

"Yeah," said Dave lowering the device. "They're headed for Flagstaff."

"But that's a deathzone," said Sheila concerned.

"Which is why I don't think we should get involved," Dave said. "Between him and John they've got it covered."

"I don't care what he did to John, there's no way he's in top form," said Sheila disagreeing with him.

"Is that something you learnt from dem fancy books?" said Dave with a grin as he imitated a rural drawl.

"Oh shut up," said Sheila pushing him away. "Let's roll."

An instant later the Jefferson and Dave's Van headed east as well while further down the road, the Clydesdale went the same way. Slick had had it with Vegas and he was looking for a new place to get a fresh perspective on life. He'd spent the money the bikers had given him on gas and spent nearly his entire life savings on getting exterior weaponry mounted onto his vehicle. To travel the open road without them was suicide. The wrecks on the side of the road leaving the city were a testament to that fact. But all knew they had to leave and so they went.

Arizona-Mexico Border: The occasional wind blew sand and tumbleweeds across the arid desert plains of the Yuma Desert. To travel on the surface was suicide as even those fleeing the violence of central and southern Mexico knew better than to try here to cross the border. Between the mines, bouncing betties, and armed patrols, it was sometimes called 'The Forbidden Zone'. And yet it was exactly where the Coyotes were making their crossing, albeit deeply underground. The procession of vehicles from earlier was moving single file through a tunnel led by a new addition, an El Camino driven by a fiery Mexican redhead, Nina Loco. Before OMAR, Nina used to smuggle illegal immigrants into the United States, but found it to be wearing on her conscience seeing the elderly and the youth struggle to make it the long distance past all the obstacles. When the US had completely shut the border, she switched to a less demanding job of smuggling weapons and supplies and had been immediately contacted by OMAR for this assignment. She was their guide and their supplier nothing more and she was only more than happy with that.

"What was that?" demanded Sid over the radio as the tunnel briefly shook causing some dirt to fall down and the lights illuminating the tunnel to flicker.

"Something hit a mine up on the surface," answered Nina, secretly hoping it was an animal that had hit one of them and not a person.

"Are we in danger down here?" asked Sid concerned. He sure as hell wasn't going to be buried alive because OMAR fudged on the details.

"Unless there's a mass migration anytime soon to set off the whole field, we're fine," Nina reassured them. "Besides, we're just about at the end anyway."

Sure enough the tunnel began to slope upwards and soon the six vehicles emerged into a barn with several animals penned up inside it. The vehicles continued out of the barn and into the daylight air and roared onto a dust road as in the distance, the wall separating the two countries could be seen.

"Sid Burn, Coyotes," began Nina with a smile. "Welcome to America."


	3. Action

Arizona: John and Convoy passed over the Hoover Dam headed southeast towards Flagstaff. The dam was crawling with armed guards and they hadn't been happy about letting the two heavily armed vehicles through, but the economy was in bad enough shape as it was. It wasn't their place to stop what was left of lawful commerce and so they let the two vehicles pass under armed guard.

Phoenix: Sid Burn was enjoying a hot dog and an ice cream cone as he watched the police fighting a mob that was threatening to break into city hall. The streets here were in much the same state as in the other major cities with trash littering the area, the buildings were all falling apart with damaged or destroyed windows, and the city lights hadn't worked in months.

"Never thought you'd be a softy at heart," commented Molo laughing. Sid looked at Molo darkly before flipping him off.

"I've never actually been to America before so I thought I might enjoy what is generally claimed to be an American tradition," explained Sid honestly before breaking out into an evil smile. "Before I destroy it."

"Yeah I will miss the old apple pie," commented Molo with a grin as he was currently mowing his way through one leaving applesauce and piecrust everywhere. The entire team was having a bite to eat with the exception of Houston who stood there stoically as she looked long and hard at the riot with cool and calculating eyes.

"WE SHOULD GO, OMAR DOES NOT LIKE TO BE KEPT WAITING," she declared in her mechanical voice. Sid looked up at her a little irked.

"Listen little lady," he stated. "We operate on our own schedule, _not_ OMAR's. They pay the bills and we'll get them the results but I will not rush into a battle. That's the first mistake that leads to defeat. Know your enemy, know their weaknesses, exploit both. Sun Tzu...I think."

Houston's eyes narrowed at that statement but she made no reply. Sid just shook his head and shot a look at Beezwax who nodded in agreement before holding up his hands in confusion as to what to do next. Sid groaned.

"You heard the slave, let's go," he grumbled as he finished his ice cream cone and hot dog as the team returned to their vehicles. Sid took another look at the rioters that were being beaten back by the police before a smile crossed his face and he opened the trunk of his car and produced an interceptor missile. Taking a piece of tubing that he found lying on the ground, he propped up the tube on a brick and fed the interceptor missile into it. Wiping his hands he got back into his car and sped off with the rest of the Coyotes as the missile erupted and flew straight through the crowd and the front doors of the building. It blew out the lobby flinging bodies everywhere before a series of explosions went up the building before the whole thing came crashing to the ground in a giant fireball.

"Heh, heh, heh," laughed Sid as what the sirens of what remained of the fire department could be heard over the raging inferno. "Power to the people."

But unbeknown to him, a blue Rattler with yellow stripes was watching from a nearby alleyway.

"Bastard," Chassey grumbled as she snapped a photo of the Manta pulling away with the rest of the team. She'd have just confronted him then and there, but an auto battle here would've been more of a bloodbath than it had just become. That and she would've been toast. She knew she wasn't even a match for Sid, much less with six accomplices. But how she could ever hope to stop them was something she couldn't even begin to figure out. So she started up her car and slowly followed them.

Time passed…

Williams, Arizona: Convoy and John were still heading down the freeway when they ran into the Coyotes. The Coyotes had had to take an alternate route from Phoenix to get to Flagstaff after finding I-17 with a massive crater in it and so they had coupled onto route 69 to route 89 and emerged on I-40 just as the Mack Truck and Strider were crossing it.

"What the-," began Convoy before he began blaring his horn trying to get the Coyotes out of his way as John began jockeying for position next to the Palomino before both took up positions on opposite sides of the highway headed east.

"Convoy I think we've got problems," commented John as the two noticed the weaponry brimming from the various vehicles.

"Damn," Convoy muttered under his breath. "And we were so close to Flagstaff too."

"So what now?" asked John.

"I hope you're up to full strength," was all Convoy said as they watched the other vehicles with anticipation.

With the Coyotes, it was decision time.

"So what do we do boss?" inquired Molo as his bus took up a flanking position with the Mack truck.

"Destroy," answered Sid darkly. The bruiser cannons on the cars that had them aimed at the two vehicles.

"Convoy?" asked John looking at the cannons nervously.

"Yeah?" asked Convoy a little depressed at their current situation.

"I picked a hell of a week to quit drinking,"

The cannons fired.

A few miles west: Sheila and Dave were racing down the highway when a series of explosions tore up the area in front of them.

"Uncle Convoy!" shouted Sheila before slamming down on the gas. "C'mon Dave!"

"Roger," said Dave in acknowledgement as the two vehicles kicked up asphalt and blazed forward down the road.

A few _more_ miles west: "Terrific," said Slick annoyed at the smoke rising in the distance before a small mortar shell could be seen arcing high into the sky.

"Well old boy what's it going to be?" he asked as he produced one of the last minted quarters before the mint had been destroyed by thieves back in '75 and flipped it. The coin came up heads.

"Here I come ya hear!" he shouted in his southern drawl as he slammed his foot down on the accelerator as the Clydesdale leapt forward.

Route 89: Chassey too saw the smoke and it gave her hope that someone _may_ have been putting up a fight against Sid's forces.

"_Or they're getting massacred_," her inner voice reminded her. Clenching her teeth she pushed the Rattler as fast as it could go.

I-40: The Mack Truck and School Bus were scrapping up against each other as they continued down the road. The Strider cut right in front of them being followed by the Palomino before it got clipped by the side Molo's fender sending it into a spin just as it fired a laser beam that sliced right through a huge boulder on the roadway like it was tissue paper.

"Convoy I think we're just unlucky," said John over the radio as he struggled to turn the wheel while moving at speeds in excess of 90 miles an hour. "Whoever these guys are, they're way too heavily armed for your average road gang."

"I've noticed!" Convoy shouted as he jerked hard on the wheel to avoid a bulls-eye rocket that tore off his driver side mirror before blowing up a portion of the side of the road as the Leprechaun took up a position on the left side of the tractor trailer and began firing its mosquito machine gun that began ricocheting off of the reinforced trailer.

"Man seven on one is bad enough but this…," continued John. "I think we may have to cut and run."

"I'm not loosing this-," began Convoy before the rest of his declaration was drowned out by the sound of an engine as a Rattler came hurtling through the air directly over the semi before coming down and taking up a position behind the Leprechaun.

"Oh great," said Convoy exasperated. "Eight on two!"

"Well at least that simplifies things to four on one," John laughed as the Strider came up behind the Leprechaun and executed a classic pit maneuver on the vehicle causing it to spin out.

"Make that seven on three," came the female response. "Provided you're friend and not foe."

"Oh we're friend ma'am believe me," said Convoy grateful for the help and a little surprised they'd gotten it at all. "You got a handle or should I just call you blue?"

"Blue is fine for now," said Chassey as her car took a position next to the cab.

"Hey boss, what do I do I'm surrounded!" shouted Molo desperately as the Strider began taking shots at it with its bruiser cannon that were punching dents in the side of the vehicle while it was still grinding against the Mack truck.

"Hold position," ordered Sid as his car was bringing up the rear with Beezwax and Nina who were soon joined by Houston and Boogie.

"Loki where the hell are you?" demanded Sid looking around for the army jeep.

"Twelve o'clock at three klicks moving away," came the military voice over the radio. Sid and the rest of the team sat there wondering what the hell that meant.

"Houston?" inquired Sid. If she was a computer than she should have that knowledge in whatever qualified as her memory banks.

"DIRECTLY AHEAD, THREE KILOMETERS," she responded curtly. Sid nodded taking this in before swerving his vehicle as the Rattler had begun laying down roadkill mines.

"Anything that might provide a roadblock up ahead?" asked Sid.

"Affirmative," answered Loki. "Intelligence reports a bridge at seven klicks."

"Bring it down and get back here!" ordered Sid.

"Bombs away!" came Loki's response. An instant later the telltale plume of a Scatter Missile was seen rising high into the air before the missile split apart into a several cluster bombs that dropped on the unseen bridge tearing it to shreds.

"What are you doing?" asked Nina utterly confused. "Just destroy them now with a concentrated barrage!"

Sid whirled to face her car. "If you want to do that and stop being a pacifist, then be my guest. But we need practice and shooting targets that move in a straight line doesn't help us at all."

"Boss!" shouted Molo terrified. Windows were blowing out of the bus as a hole was torn into it by John's bruiser cannon.

"Beezwax, knock him off but _don't_ destroy him. The more targets the better," said Sid.

"Got it," said the beekeeper. He fired a bulls-eye rocket that caused John to peel off before Beezwax rear-ended him and shoved him right in front of Molo's bus forcing the African-American to concentrate on not getting run over by the two heavy vehicles. On the opposite side of the road, Loki went racing by before performing an abrupt 180 and rejoining the group.

"Approaching roadblock, ETA 4 minutes," said Loki. "And counting."

"Alright gentlemen, here's our plan..," began Sid.

Up ahead, John, Convoy, and Chassey blazed ahead along with Molo.

"Something's not adding up," commented Chassey. "That jeep that just blazed by was part of Sid's team. If he's no longer in front of us then that means he couldn't go any further."

"I guess that explains that missile that shot up ahead of us just a few moments ago," Convoy figured. "Better get ready for a fight."

"I've got the Stag and the Palomino," said John.

"The Manta and the Leprechaun," said Chassey.

"Guess I've got the bus, the Glenn, and the El Camino then," said Convoy noncommittally. The trio roared onwards until the image of the damaged bridge became visible.

"John, get this monkey off of my back first," said Convoy.

"Got it," said Torque. The Strider threw itself around and soon was traveling in reverse and Chassey followed suit and both cars were backing down the interstate.

"School's out buddy!" shouted John as the two vehicles opened fire. Molo jerked hard on the wheel and the bus went straight onto the shoulder. Chassey and John shared a brief look through the corner of their eyes and both vehicles shot through the hole, firing at the vehicles in the rear.

But there was nothing there.

"What the hell?" demanded Chassey, when suddenly a series of explosions rocked the area around them. The Coyotes were swarming over the edge of the slopes leading down to the roadway all cannons blazing.

"So much for our plan," Chassey grumbled. The Strider and the Rattler split apart as the Coyotes swarmed them en masse.

"What's going on back there?" demanded Convoy as he was struggling to turn the truck around without tipping it over or jackknifing.

"We've just walked into a trap," John grumbled as he spun the wheel as a laser blast ripped through the back seats of his car, having passed through one door and then the other like it was nothing.

"Convoy I don't know how long we can hold out!" Chassey admitted. The Manta raced up right next to her and fired its Molotov Cannons directly ahead of her forcing her to avoid the resulting pothole.

"Well there ain't nothin' on 'em that can stop a convoy," said Convoy as his truck appeared coming at them.

"Let's roll," said John as his car and Chassey's raced alongside it headed towards the Coyotes, weapons bristling. But then Molo's bus raced across their path belching thick black smog and as soon as the vehicles raced through, the smoke clogged their air intakes stalling them. The three vehicles came to a halt directly in front of the Coyotes.

"Aw," said Sid over their radio frequency with mock pity. "All dressed up and nowhere to go?"

"Who the hell are you?" demanded Convoy.

"He's Sid Burn," Chassey interjected. If she was going to die, she would at least let Sid know the government was onto him. "He's a mercenary for hire and he's here on behalf of OMAR to wreck what's left of our energy infrastructure."

Silence descended after that was said. John and Convoy were beginning to wonder just what they had been dragged into now.

"Well, well, well have we a ram among the sheep?" asked Sid mildly surprised. "I'm surprised the government got off of its fat ass and sent someone after me."

"Who are you?" asked Convoy still at a loss.

"I'm Chassey Blue, FBI," responded Agent Blue. "I was supposed to stop him but it seems I've failed. I'm just sorry I had to drag you two boys into this."

John and Convoy didn't respond; they instead focused on trying to get their vehicles started again. With the engines dead so too were their tactical systems, hence their urgency.

"Any last words?" asked Sid as the Coyotes aimed their weapons at the trio.

"Yeah I've got one!" said a new voice. "Tantrum!"

A Jefferson and a Van went flying over the edge of the canyon lining the roadway, guns blazing.

"Well apparently I didn't give you guys enough credit," commented Sid lightly as bullets tore across his car before he threw it in reverse. The other Coyotes split up in various directions as the two vehicles took up a defensive position in front of the stalled ones.

"Sheila?" demanded Convoy. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Saving your butt Uncle Convoy," said Sheila as her tantrum minigun came to life and began laying down a suppressing fire. "Now c'mon we've got to get out of here!"

"Sorry Convoy," Dave apologized as his van began shaking from a barrage of interceptor missiles.

"Look, we'll talk about it later," said Convoy irritated. "Can you give us a distraction?"

"Yeah but it might take a moment to get ready," said Dave as the sound of him rummaging around in his van could be heard.

"Make it quick, Sheila get out of here!" shouted Convoy as he once again failed to restart his truck.

"No way!" shouted Sheila as her minigun continued blasting everything in sight. But her small dune buggy was quickly becoming overwhelmed by the missile fire around her and it was only a matter of time before a lucky shot took out her entire vehicle. But Convoy couldn't help her and neither could John or Chassey. Dave's wasn't much help either as his guns were on automatic fire but that wasn't doing very much as they were aiming all over the place as soon as the target lock acquired a closer target. With little options left, Convoy was tempted to grab his shotgun and just start shooting, even if it did get him immediately killed.

But fate intervened in the form of a 1970 Clydesdale 4x4.

"Now what do I do?" said Slick Clyde exasperated. He had seen the explosions and he knew a fight was going on but he had hoped it would be over by now and he could join the victors. Instead what he got was a stalemate and that didn't make his decision any easier. So once more he turned to his trusty quarter and prepared to flip it.

"Boss, what do we do about that Clydesdale?" asked Beezwax as the Clydesdale just sat on the road idly watching the proceedings.

"I don't like witnesses," was all Sid said to that.

"And the verdict is…," began Slick as he prepared to open his palm and see the coin when his entire vehicle shook hard. Looking up, Slick saw the Stag pickup rushing straight at him weapons blazing. Slick's eyes erupted with pure rage as his hand clenched tightly on the quarter as his foot slammed hard onto the accelerator and the vehicle leapt forward at the offender.

"**Nobody shoots at me**," said Slick darkly. He reached for his new weapons system and pressed the appropriate buttons and then squeezed on the trigger located on the steering wheel as the Clydesdale opened fire with everything it had. The barrage and single mindedness of the attack caused Beezwax to pull off as the Clydesdale raced past it. Slick then fired his bruiser cannon at the vehicle point blank, slamming into the camper on the bed and throwing the truck into a spin and stalling it out. The Clydesdale then proceeded to chase after the Manta with the Palomino and Leprechaun in pursuit.

"This guy must be suffering from disco fever!" said Boogie, perplexed at the newcomer's tenacity. But his attack was broken off when Sheila began pounding him with her tantrum mini-gun.

"Enough of this, Coyotes target the…," began Sid when the roars of the Rattler, Strider, and Mach Truck encompassed the sounds of their own engine.

"Dave, get us out of here!" shouted Convoy.

"Right!" began Dave. "Invasion!"

The rear doors of his van flung open and a trio of flying saucers erupted from them and slammed into Loki and Nina's vehicles, the latter of which wasn't even participating in the fight due to OMAR orders, making a hole for the group to escape. Dave raced through followed by Chassey.

"Go Convoy, I've got a plan," said John. Convoy nodded and the Mack Truck ran through followed by Sheila who had broken off her attack.

"Hey Clydesdale," said Torque over the CB to the newcomer. "You'd better get out now because this place is coming down!"

Slick growled angrily at being denied the opportunity to at least blast one vehicle, but he was only under attack by two and even he wasn't stupid enough to take them all on by himself.

"_But someday I _will_ be able to_," he promised. He then spun his 4x4 around and raced out of there with Dave's flying saucers as John hit the accelerator, following him.

"I hope this works," he prayed. The speaker was still untested but he had no choice.

"Bassquake!" he announced. The trunk popped open revealing the speaker that came to life and fired a supersonic blast that tore up the ground flinging rocks and debris everywhere causing the Coyote vehicles to shake violently in its wake.

"Loki, fire!" yelled Sid as he held on for dear life thanks to the ground rumble.

"Bombs away!" came Loki's voice as another cluster bomb ripped its way free of the flying debris field headed straight for the escaping group. The missile then split apart into its more deadly cluster explosives and peppered the area with explosions.

"Scratch one bogey," said Loki pleased.

"C'mon let's get the hell out of here we've got a job to do," said Sid as his Manta took off back to Flagstaff with the rest of the Coyotes leaving the newly formed crater behind. The other group of vehicles was nowhere to be seen.


	4. Vigilantes

Flagstaff: The Coyotes raced into the city along the fabled Route 66 while those remaining in the placed watched the vehicles with slight apprehension and fear given how few cars there were still on the road and how heavily armed they were. But the cars just passed silently by like ghostly spirits and continued on through the city uninterrupted. The cars finally reached their destination, a seemingly ordinary gas station, and Nina Loco stopped in front of the entrance to the only garage.

"We'll proceed in one at a time," Nina stated as her El Camino rolled in and the door closed behind her as the others, aside from Houston, looked at the garage strangely when the door opened and Nina's car was gone.

"Boss?" asked Molo somewhat scared.

"You're the youngest in this outfit and therefore the rookie so you go," ordered Sid, also a little bit apprehensive about the magic garage.

"But…," began Molo protesting.

"Beezwax!" Sid roared. The Stag pickup leapt forward as if to fight the bus and Molo seized up scared before slowly pushing down on the accelerator.

"Alright, alright," he said slowly. The bus barely managed to squeeze through the opening before the door closed behind it. A few moments later the door opened.

"Loki," said Sid next. The small army jeep zipped into the garage and once more the door closed before opening and revealing nothing.

"Boogie," Sid stated. The Leprechaun moved forward and it too vanished into the garage. Houston didn't even wait for a command she just went leaving Beezwax and Sid behind.

"Thoughts?" asked the beekeeper. Sid said nothing but instead threw his car in reverse and spun around until his and Beezwax's rear bumpers were facing each other. Beezwax nodded and soon both cars were revving their engines. The Stag pickup leapt forward once, twice, thrice, before both vehicles went straight for the garage door back to back, Beezwax in the lead. The two entered the garage as all of their weaponry deployed, ready for anything. The garage door waited a little bit longer to close but finally it did as both cars turned on their lights. Then the whole ground started shaking before the garage door rose straight up above them to be replaced by solid wall.

"_An elevator_," said Sid with realization. "_Damn OMAR you do go all out._"

He looked through his rearview mirror at Beezwax's reflection in his. The Beekeeper was somewhat bemused before his attention hardened and Sid did the same. Their engines began revving once more as the wall vanished on Sid's side. He roared out as Beezwax spun around and both vehicles shone their lights into the area where the other vehicles sat in darkness. Slowly, the lights came on revealing a single occupant standing in the large room.

"Well," said the African-American woman with surprisingly stark white hair. "Ain't we a pair, firestarter."

"Auntie," said Sid stunned as Auntie Entity approached his car and leaned forward on the hood.

"You're late!"

Elsewhere: A lone gas station sat in the desert completely abandoned with Flagstaff barely visible in the distance. Tumbleweeds and sand pelted the building's paint chipped façade as the sound of engines could be heard. From out of the heat of the desert came the cars that had just recently fought against the Coyotes. Sheila's dune buggy came first followed by Dave's van. The Clydesdale came next and then Chassey's Rattler, John's Strider, and then Convoy's truck, but while the cab was covered with heavy dents and bullet holes the trailer had been completely destroyed by Loki's cluster bombs. The six vehicles stopped at the station and the drivers slowly disembarked from their vehicles.

"What is this place?" asked Chassey to Sheila. The Agent was sitting on the hood of her car when Sheila had approached her.

"It's my uncle's garage," said Sheila before turning her attention to the woman. "I'm Sheila, so who're you?"

"Chassey," said the woman producing her hand that Sheila shook. "Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"Wow," said Sheila impressed. "Did you ever meet J. Edgar Hoover?"

"Why does everyone ask me that?" asked Chassey perplexed. Sheila began laughing nervously.

"Well…you know…," she began before scratching the back of her head and looking away. "About him possibly being…"

"Look," said Chassey wanting to put that whole thing to a rest. "I met him once when I was back at the academy, he seemed like a nice guy, and if there was anything else going on I don't know or care. My first boss was Director Kelley until he was reassigned to President Carter's cabinet and I don't want to talk about my current boss."

"Oh," said Sheila slightly confused. "So can I see your badge?"

Chassey laughed briefly before taking it out and flashing it to her. When she was a kid she too had been fascinated by the badge, but now having one kind of took the mystique away. Still, she was never one to deny a fan, even if the Bureau had gone downhill lately.

"I just wish it still meant something these days," she sighed wistfully, but Sheila was so engrossed in looking at the badge that she didn't hear that. Nearby, Convoy and John were looking at the demolished trailer.

"Son of a bitch!" shouted Convoy furious. John looked at the damage and rubbed his hand along one of the charred areas of the trailer and rubbed the ash in his hands.

"Definitely a military cluster bomb, deployed via a short range rocket," Torque assessed as he also pulled out a chunk of one of the bombs remains and looked at it. "It's state of the art. I know the military was testing something along these lines on civilian vehicles as a new form of combat vehicle thanks to the gas shortages. I wasn't aware any were actually on the market."

"If OMAR is involved in all this I'd say they still aren't," said Convoy ruefully as he looked at his damaged trailer with clenched fists.

"I guess you're right," John agreed looking at the damage. "Sorry Convoy."

"You did all you could," Convoy responded still not happy about his lost cargo. "But what about this 'Sid Burn', you ever hear of him?"

"Rumor mostly," responded the gambler. "He's bad news that's all you really need to know."

"But are you sure it's him?" asked Convoy pointedly. "We still don't know if that Agent Blue is on the level."

"Well Sid is known to travel with a Manta," John revealed. "But not one to have an entourage with him. I dunno."

"Let's find out shall we?" said Convoy heading for the Rattler. John nodded and followed him.

Flagstaff: "Hey don't blame me for this okay," said Sid as he got out of his vehicle and faced the woman. "Your people screwed up because the government knew we were here!"

"That problem is being dealt with," Auntie growled. "But we have a strict schedule that needs to be kept to as best as possible."

The two glared at each other when Molo slowly raised his hand.

"Um…um…excuse me," he said nervously as the two glared at him instead. The teenage bus driver swallowed hard as sweat poured down his face before he summoned up the courage to speak.

"Who…who are you?" he asked innocently. The woman looked at as her eyes narrowed before she broke into a large reassuring smile.

"Don't worry child," she said reassuringly. "I'm just like your auntie and that's why I choose to call myself that."

Sid rolled his eyes at her speech but otherwise said nothing in response.

"But, but why are you so upset?" asked Molo slowly beginning to stop acting like a scared child.

"Because our dear friend Mr. Burn often gets on auntie's nerves," she said with her calm look before turning to the team. "Alright, I will accept that you were delayed by the actions of a few…vigilantes. But that's in the past because right now we have to focus on your future. You have a series of targets that need destroying. I have information on all of them and thanks to Houston's…'unique gifts' she will guide you to them one by one."

"But let's get something straight," said Sid interjecting. "_I'm_ in charge of this outfit, _not her_. Okay?"

"Well of course," said Auntie confused. "You're in charge she's your second in command."

Sid shook his head vigorously at that as Beezwax nodded in agreement.

"No, no, no," he stated waving his hands in front of himself. "I'm not letting that _thing_ in charge of anybody."

Auntie walked straight up to him with a cold stare in her eyes and slapped the mercenary right across the face with an echo that filled the whole room.

"You will never refer to another African-," began Auntie.

"Oh spare me your sanctimonious bullshit; I know what she really is!" Sid shouted. "She _isn't_ human! Not anymore! And I'm not having human beings being led by a robot!"

"Cyborg," Auntie growled. "She's a Cyborg! And she's just as capable as any human being to lead others."

"Oh wake up," Sid mockingly. "She's got no free will, no emotions, nothing! She's OMAR's slave through and through and I don't trust her at all for that!"

"Then why are you telling me all this when she's standing right there!" said Auntie bewildered. Houston was standing all by herself as the others were off minding their vehicles so they didn't have to be a part of this conversation, aside from Beezwax who was standing staunchly supportive of Sid's position.

"Because she _doesn't care_," said Sid darkly throwing his hand to indicate Houston who still didn't move. "She doesn't give a shit about anything and that's the point. She's not commanding anybody while _I'm_ around and that's final."

With that he stormed off back to his car as Houston remained motionless. Auntie eyed her before turning to the beekeeper.

"And what is your interest in all this?" she asked of him. Beezwax contemplated this for a few moments.

"The bee may follow the queen's orders, but it still has free will and individuality," was all he said. And with that he was gone as Sid ordered everyone back to their cars and they slowly took off the way they had come. Finally it was only Sid and Auntie left in the chamber. Sid pulled up right next to her and sat there for a few moments deep in thought.

"What?" Auntie shot at him. Sid looked at her honestly.

"Why aren't your running OMAR?" he asked genuinely curious. Auntie looked at him bemused.

"Who says I'm not?" she asked with a smirk. "Goodbye soldier."

And with that she was gone leaving Sid alone. He laughed to himself before rolling into the elevator and once more emerging on the surface to his waiting team.

"Alright let's hear it Houston, where're we going?" asked Sid annoyed.

"SITE 4, NEVADA," came her automated response. The vehicles rolled out and headed west.

Gas Station: "Before we get any deeper into this mess," said Convoy. The group was sitting inside the virtually abandoned station with the exception of Slick who was standing at the doorway. "I think some brief introductions are in order. My name is Convoy and I've been a trucker for my entire adult life."

"I'm Sheila, Uncle Convoy's niece," said Sheila with a smile. Convoy scowled at her but she refused to back down.

"Jonathan Torque," said John deciding to go along for now. "But you can call me John. I'm sort of between jobs right now."

"I'm just called Dave or the D-Man for short," said Dave before giving the peace symbol with his hand.

"I'm Chassey Blue, FBI," said Chassey. She was sitting at the proverbial head of the group as she knew she'd have to do a lot of explaining to do. Everyone turned to the figure standing in the door expectantly. The individual was still shrouded in darkness so they couldn't clearly make out his face.

"Clyde," he decided on. The others looked at him as if he were going to offer more but that was it.

"Okay then," said Chassey a little put off by the man's demeanor but nevertheless wanted to get this meeting off on the right foot. "Well first I want to…wait a minute, you're not _Slick_ Clyde are you?"

Slick's jaw tightened at that. "I…_might_…be him. Why?"

Chassey tried to form a coherent sentence but she couldn't. "You know what forget it. I guess you all really want to know what's going on."

"No of course not," said Slick sarcastically. He wasn't particularly anxious to figure out the hole he'd dug himself into, but hey, they others had the gall to strike him first.

"So John, I overheard you talking to Convoy about Sid Burn, why don't you tell us what you know?" Chassey suggested. "I could give you a mountain of detail on him, but most of it would be worthless, so how about a summary from someone…'not' in the know."

"I'm actually more in the know than you realize," John grumbled. "Okay, so Sid Burn's been on America's Ten Most Wanted list after a stunt he pulled in the South African diamond mines resulting in the diamond prices skyrocketing. From there he's basically destroyed any industry he's been assigned to take out. So if he's here and if OMAR is footing the bill then he's here to destroy our energy resources. …Provided it's actually him doing all this."

Chassey's eyes shot up and met his, but John didn't retract his comment, though she was also surprised that John knew so much about the man.

"So the next question is what we're going to do," said Sheila concerned.

"Well that depends," said Slick. "Do you have any backup coming?"

"No I'm it," Chassey admitted sadly. "The military gave me a ride here from D.C. but they've got their hands full. We all know how much of a mess the cities are and between lack of fuel, desertions, and mass chaos, they can't spare a single unit. We're screwed."

The others shifted uneasily at that statement. Right now they had two choices, join her and stop them or do nothing and watch American further fall apart. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time and they all knew it.

"I'll help you," Convoy decided as he took off his cowboy hat. "I've got no cargo anymore, no job, nothing. But…if I'm going to die anyway I'll at least do something I can be proud of."

"And I'll be there to watch your back," said Sheila with a grin.

"Absolutely not!" roared Convoy getting up. "You are going-!"

"School's been cancelled," said Sheila bitterly. "A bomb went off in the Union and until they figure out who did it, school's out for summer. Maybe forever. And besides, you can't stop me from helping out Agent Blue. I'm 18 and I'm an adult now so I'm making my own decisions."

Convoy sat back down. He wasn't going to have a heated debate here; it'd wait until later when they were alone to talk.

"And Convoy here always told me to watch out for Sheila so I guess I'm going along for the ride too," said the hippie. Slick thought and thought about it.

"I'll humor you…for now," he decided on. He wasn't going to put all of his eggs in one basket, but if they succeeded…

Convoy looked to John but the man just turned his head away.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I…can't do this. It's not like I agree with what Sid's doing, I'm strongly against it, it's just…I can't. I have my reasons; that's all."

Before the others could respond, Convoy held up his hand.

"Just think about it," was all he said. John nodded and then headed for the door brushing past Slick Clyde who watched him go with a raised eyebrow. An instant later the sound of the Strider was heard vanishing into the distance.

"I thought the Magnificent 7 always increased in numbers," Slick finally cracked after he was gone.

"You're one to talk," Chassey shot back. Slick's expression turned dark at that and he instantly clammed up.

"But the Southwest is a large area, how are we going to know where they're going?" asked Sheila. Chassey nodded and produced a folder that she opened up.

"We've got a mole working inside OMAR and they've been feeding us information," Chassey explained. "You've all heard of Area 51 right?"

"The place where they're keeping all the UFO remains from Roswell?!?!" shouted Dave ecstatic. "We get to go there?"

"First of all I don't know if there are any UFOs there or not. What there is, is an advanced weapons testing area. If OMAR gets their hands on those weapons, it'll be a disaster. We have to stop them," said Chassey. "And we'd better get going."

"You heard the boss lady, let's move!" said Sheila getting up. Chassey instantly shot up.

"No, no, no, no, no," she protested. "I'm not much of a leader. I didn't even have a plan to stop Sid until I met you guys. I don't want the job, I'm just happy to provide a helping hand."

"Well we need a leader don't we?" asked Sheila confused. "Otherwise, that's Communism."

"That's not entirely true…," began Dave.

"We do need a leader," Chassey insisted. "Someone has to give orders, otherwise we'll fall apart. Sid is one of the best strategic minds in the world."

"Should we put it to a secret vote?" asked Dave.

"Well that's hardly fair," said Slick butting in. If he could become leader of this ragtag group, it'd be a long way from where he'd come from. "You three all know each other, that sways the election."

"Are you saying you want the job?" asked Chassey bemused. Slick scowled even more but the shadows made it hard to make out on his face.

"No," he said backing down. But this wasn't the end to the conversation as far he was concerned.

"Good," said Chassey pleased. "I nominate Convoy."

"Second," said Sheila.

"All in favor?" asked Dave.

"Aye," came Sheila, Dave, and Chassey's enthusiastic response. Slick said nothing.

"Congrats Convoy, the job is yours," said Chassey. Convoy nodded humbly.

"The let's gas up and go," he said.

'Vigilantes roll out!" said Sheila excited. The group looked at her confused but Sheila just shrugged. The quartet got up and headed for the doorway as Slick stepped aside and watched them leave.

"It's too late to back out now, pretty boy," said Chassey darkly as she passed him. Slick's expression turned even more sour than it already was.

"I'll show you," he swore even though she was gone. "I'll show you all."

And then he chased after them as the group was filling up their tanks. And then they were off.

Vigilantes and Coyotes all headed towards Site 4.


	5. Sin Cities of the Past

Hoover Dam: The Coyotes blazed across the top of the Hoover Dam. The landmark was virtually defenseless as the soldiers normally guarding it had either been withdrawn to the cities or had fled the service in light of the ensuing chaos around them.

"Appreciate it while it lasts boys, she's one of our upcoming targets," said Sid as he looked out at the massive canyon the dam sat in. Molo snapped a photo as the vehicles passed through the checkpoints and continued onwards.

"Why not take it out now?" asked Boogie.

"Because we've got a run to make first," said Sid mocking Convoy's trucker voice. The Coyotes moved on westward.

"So when do we eat?" asked the youngster, Molo, very curious…and naturally very hungry. He hadn't really eaten since they'd knocked off a gas station back in Kingman, Arizona and his secret stash of chocolate was beginning to run out.

"When we come to, hit and then level Las Vegas," was Sid's simplistic response. That drew a hushed silence from the others.

"We're going to knock off Sin City?" asked Beezwax at a loss, yet somewhat pleased to knock of a city he considered blight on nature. "But wh-."

"ATTACKING LAS VEGAS IS NOT PART OF THE MISSION," came Houston 13's shrill voice. "THIS IS CONTRARY TO OMAR'S…"

Sid groaned loudly over the radio. "Oh fuck OMAR!" he shouted. "They hired me to do a job and I'll get it done but the how and why are my own damn business and no one else's. We're going to Las Vegas and that's final!"

The mercenary for hire shut off his radio and began whistling the lines to Elvis Presley's _Viva Las Vegas_ as the vehicles moved down I-95 and soon could see bright lights that could set the right person's soul on fire in the distance.

Nearby: Chassey Blue was spying on the enemy group through her binoculars and quickly wrote down what she could of the various vehicles' make and model along with their license plates, if they had one, before she handed the binoculars to John Torque who commented on their armaments. Though John was not joining the group by any means, they were headed in the same direction and it was suicide to travel alone on the highways since the gangs had taken over, as this group had already learned the hard way.

"And a rattler machine gun for all of them," finished John as he returned her binoculars before contemplating this. "I'll say this for OMAR they don't skimp out on the details."

Chassey nodded her blonde haired head. "There's a gun runner from Mexico named Nina Loco who's been OMAR's local supplier since their main operations are so far away. Our intelligence suggests that when they hit Site 4, they'll become a whole lot more deadly."

Slick Clyde had been stewing silently, still upset over not being made leader of this band but this presented him an opportunity for him to still suggest a course of action.

"So what are we waiting for, let's hit them hard and fast!" he declared. The others looked at him in a way that made Slick feel extremely uncomfortable for having made that statement.

"From the sound of things, whatever's at this Site 4 sounds like it would be extremely useful to us as well," Convoy mused as he glanced out at the dam. "We'll lay back for now and see what they're up to and when the time is right then we _will_ make our move."

"Sensors indicate that unless we move now, they'll get out of our sight and we'll loose them," Dave chimed from the back of his van while reading the data from his remote controlled flying saucers. Slick visibly rolled his eyes while muttering the word 'idiot' under his breath which earned him a hit on the shoulder from Sheila.

"Then let's roll out," ordered Convoy as he fired up his Moth Truck and rolled down onto the road and headed for the Hoover Dam while the others followed suit.

Upper Atmosphere: An SR-71 Blackbird that had been stolen by OMAR operatives during the chaos gripping the United States raced through the upper atmosphere and began snapping photographs and picking up radio transmissions being sent from a certain cyborg below.

Kuwait City: The still shadowed visages of the 13 OMAR Executives were sitting in their high seats as Auntie paced back in forth in the concrete valley below them. But before any could get even more restless, the massive screen above the First sparked to life. The fourteen individuals in the room watched the information, of the encounter with the vigilantes, Sid's desire to destroy Las Vegas, and that the vigilantes were now pursuing the group. The image promptly shut off before all chairs and eyes turned to face Auntie who was not happy at the treatment she was now being given.

"It appears this Sid Burn is more a loose cannon than we anticipated," commented Four. "Perhaps he cannot be controlled within acceptable safety margins."

"Though perhaps by exploiting the strife currently gripping this city, it could create further fear and strife in the rest should he succeed," Three stated to Auntie's relief. "But you are correct, safety margins must be maintained."

Auntie finally spoke up. "Sid will get the job done, he hasn't failed me before and he won't do so now. America will fall, I promise you."

Two leaned forward. "I hope so for your sake Auntie. We will not get another chance at this. I would be very disappointed were things to not work in our favor. We will wait and see…for now."

Auntie tipped her head at Two out of deference and then glared at the others before security forces moved in and escorted her out of the room while One watched in silence.

Las Vegas: The infamous 'Welcome to Fabulous Las Vegas' sign was only partially lit and had small fires across it's service but it still stood proudly to the world. …Until a Sky Hammer Mortar round noisily arced through the air and impacted with the sign throwing pieces of it everywhere as the Coyotes roared past it. The group continued moving down the heavily damaged Sunset Strip amidst violence and chaos all over. Fires still pock marked the sides of the road and debris was still everywhere. In the darkness, it truly looked like hell on earth, a description only made more accurate by the various world landmarks that had been set up in the strip now littering the roads.

"Is no place open around here?" Sid grumbled. If there was nothing working, then destroying an already town would be a bust in his eyes. But before he could completely give up hope The Galaxy Hotel appeared and still shone brightly mirrored by the burning Hotel Chapel across the street and Golden Nugget nearby. Sid flipped on his blinker, old habits die hard, and drove into the underground garage. He pulled into one of the few spots that wasn't filled with a vehicle, burning or otherwise, and came to a halt as the others pulled around him.

"Gentlemen, I'll leave you to your own devices for now. Meet up in a couple hours and we'll bring the house down," the Britain laughed darkly. But before he could leave, he turned to the youngest member of the group.

"You stay here and guard the vehicles," he ordered to Molo. An explosion went off outside that created a haunting echo in the garage as the obese gang member visibly trembled.

"W-why m-me?" he asked terrified. Sid laughed.

"Because you're too young to drink, smoke or gamble is why," he explained with an evil smile across his face before whispering something to Loki and then left with Beezwax. Molo looked around at the others.

"Boogie, a little help?" he pleaded. The man who looked like a staple of the 70s dance scene threw out his collar and ran a comb through his air.

"Sorry kid but as you can tell from the way I stride, I'm a disco man and I ain't got time to jive," he said clearly full of himself. "Ladies, your man has arrived."

Boogie disco strutted his way out of the garage and Molo turned to Loki, but his Glen 4x4 was already leaving the garage. That left Houston 13 but Molo was deftly afraid of her cold demeanor. Still, he was out of options and desperate.

"Houston?" he asked of her. "Please stay with me I'm too young to die."

The Cyborg looked at him unsympathetically but then a brief flash raced across her eyes and they seemed to gain a more human tone to them.

"I," she began softly before her eyes returned to their former state and she straightened up. "WILL STAY WITH YOU, DEFENSIVE MODE ACTIVATED."

Molo breathed a sigh of relief before briefly scratching his head at her change in demeanor before running into the safety of his bus and sitting there shaking nervously while Houston calmly patrolled the area around the vehicles.

Outside: The Vigilantes saw Loki leave the garage and take off down the road.

"Dave, follow him," ordered Convoy. Dave's van roared forward and moved down the road.

"Wait Dave, I'm coming with you," said Sheila as her car went after him. Convoy was going to protest but they were already out of sight before he could formulate a response.

"The rest, we'll sit tight and wait for them to come out," came Convoy's next decision.

"Why don't we just go in and get them now?" requested Chassey.

"Because we can't bring them in for crimes they've yet to commit," came John's knowing response. "But that's it for me, I'm gone."

The Strider slowly started moving away when Convoy called out to him.

"Happy trails JT," he said, a little mournful. "But if the chips are ever done, don't forget that…"

"That nothing on earth can stop a convoy," John finished. "I will."

The Strider disappeared down the street when the Clydesdale followed suit.

"Where are you going?" stated Convoy. The Clydesdale briefly stopped.

"I swore to myself that I'd never come back here," came the rueful response. "But now that I am, I have a score to settle."

"Well it'll have to wait," came Convoy's curt response. "The two of us won't be able to take them on in case of trouble and that's more important to any vendetta you might have at the moment."

Slick glared forward through his windshield at the road in front of him as his hands tightened on the wheel and began hurting. Looking to the shifter and then out at the road ahead of him, he grabbed a hold of it.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!" he shouted and began violently shaking the wheel and the vehicle briefly began shaking before he began breathing deeply and calmed himself down.

"One day…," he swore and threw the vehicle in reverse and took up a flanking position between the Rattler and the Moth Truck in front of the chapel. The other two had not been privy to his outburst as he hadn't been holding his CB radio but even if they had, Slick wouldn't have cared. He would not be denied his revenge, even if it took a lifetime to get it.

Streets: Loki traveled down road after road following the instructions given to him by his leader just prior to arriving in Las Vegas. On his dashboard was an image of the targets and likely locations of where they would be. He did not know why the leader wished these men dead, but it was his task to see the mission fulfilled.

Casino: Sid was drinking his beer while staring lustfully at the waitress who had given it to him as Beezwax was consulting a foldout map.

"I think after we hit Site 4 and steal their cache of weapons, the team should split up and hit multiple sites simultaneously to maximize our effectiveness and minimize our time," said Beezwax, obliviously cutting into Sid's trance. The pyromaniac glanced over at him involuntarily and his concentration was broken.

"Yes, I suppose so," he commented not really caring but looked at the map anyway. What he saw surprised him.

"Damn Beezwax, I am impressed," he had to admit looking at the plans the beekeeper had laid out. "Have you…done strategic planning before?"

The beekeeper produced a jar of honey before taking the bread provided on the table and dipped it in and then took a bite.

"I did," he confirmed through his chewing. "Until the second sun rose over Trinity and my bees perished. Now I just live for revenge."

Sid nodded. "As Homer said so succinctly of revenge in the _Iliad_, 'It is sweeter far than flowing honey'. One of the few quotes that I've come across that doesn't outright condemn the notion."

Beezwax nodded as his eyes seemed to darken over. "And he was right. Honey fuels the body but revenge fuels the soul like nothing else can."

Sid nodded as he finished off his beer. "So what is it OMAR promised you to get you to agree to this crapshoot?"

"Nuclear and biological warheads," came the response. "The US may have managed to sign Biological and Toxic Weapons convention of '72 before everything went to shit but they sure as hell haven't had time to dispose of it all."

"I'm surprised OMAR's letting you take them," Sid revealed. "But what do you plan on doing with that much destructive power?"

"I don't know," the beekeeper responded. "You?"

The waitress passed by them again.

"I make my own rewards," he said sauntering after her. "See you back at the vehicles."

Beezwax shook his head before going over his plans again.

Elsewhere: Loki continued traveling down random roads while being tailed by Dave and Sheila.

"What do you think he's up to?" asked Sheila in a hushed tone over her CB. Dave was doing some calculations as best he could with the large computer mainframe in his van while still trying to focus on the road.

"It's almost that whoever they are they're scouting out the city," the MIT graduate figured. He was about to comment further when the Glensdale came to a halt.

"Enemy forces detected, prepare to attack!" came a strange voice over the radio. The bruiser cannon on top of the vehicle immediately aimed backwards at the two of them.

"Shit, split!" ordered Dave throwing his van in reverse as the cannon fired.

Elsewhere: John pulled in to his nearly destroyed and desolate neighborhood on the outskirts of Las Vegas. As he walked in through the front door that was barely hanging on by a hinge, he noticed the general disarray of the place with mud and dirt covering everything. The looters had picked the place apart quite thoroughly and very little remained except for the pieces of furniture too large to take. The former scientist flipped over a chair and sat down on it while leaning his hand on the damaged table next to him and sat there in silence and listened to the ever growing chaos outside. Bullets flew, people screamed, and explosions went off. And through it all, a telephone rang.

_RING RING RING_

Startled that the phone was even still left in the house, John rushed over before looking at the phone hesitantly before slowly picked it up and holding it to his ear.

"Hello Jonathan," came the British voice on the other end. Torque's eyes snapped up and he looked at the far wall

"Hello Sidney," John responded darkly.

Supermarket: Jefferson, Jeremiah, and Jebediah Torque emerged from the gutted supermarket carrying what food they could scavenge. It wasn't a happy existence for the three engineers but one they'd learned to live with since the fall of civilization. But they would endure as best they could until things hopefully improved. But as they walked the long and dangerous walk home, something was different. Two bright headlights shone on them, virtually blinding them. A small 4x4 slowly advanced towards them and came to a halt. The brothers eyed this new development with curiosity and trepidation. They tried to sidestep the vehicle but it merely changed position to remain in front of them. This went on for a couple of moments until the brothers stopped and tried to figure out what to do.

And then the Glensdale opened fire.

Hotel Room: The waitress was passed out underneath the covers as Sid Burn sat on the side of the bed shirtless while dragging hard on a cigarette.

"It's been awhile hasn't it?" he commented, looking out the window of the hotel at the fires raging in the MGM Grand.

"Not long enough for me," came the hateful response. Sid shook his head.

"But John we did such good work together," he pointed out. "We made advances in the field of chemical sciences that nobody has come close to since the world fell apart."

"**And how many people are dead because of our work?**" came the harsh response. Sid rubbed his goatee before standing up and walking to the window and leaned his arm against it while pressing his head on it.

"I know of at least three," he answered, of what he was referring to was left unsaid but they both knew it. "I sent Loki to kill them and we both know he succeeded."

A Sky Hammer Mortar arced straight up and back down to which Sid began putting on his shirt and trenchcoat.

"**WHY?**" demanded John seething with pure rage and attempting to stop tears from flowing from his eyes.

"Because you need all distractions out of your life so you can come to realize that with your knowledge and my abilities that nobody would be able to stop us. We can rule the world with an iron fist!" he yelled into the phone. "THINK ABOUT THE FUTURE JOHN!"

"I already have," John commented very calmly. "**And I'm going to kill you with my bare hands.**"

"Come now, John," Sid said mockingly as he finished his cigarette with one final deep inhale. "We all know one man _cannot_ make a difference."

John's hand clenched tightly on the phone until he crushed its flimsy plastic in his hands before angrily throwing it to the ground before he walked over to the far wall and punched it extremely hard so his hand went through the drywall. Behind the wall, he pulled out a double barreled shotgun and several rounds and began loading it before cocking the gun and heading for the door.

Sid for his part finished dressing and headed for the door when the waitress shifted and slowly sat up.

"Wha-?" she asked groggily before noticing that Sid had aimed his gun at her.

"Thank you my dear for a most entertaining evening," he said. "But I'm afraid there's no tip this time."

Sid fired his gun and left the room.

Streets outside: Convoy turned his engine over as did Slick and Chassey.

"Dave and Sheila should be able to hold their own against that screwball in the Glensdale, but we'll need to separate the others and use the buildings as cover," Convoy ordered.

"They'll have us outnumbered by five to three," Chassey pointed out. Convoy nodded.

"We'll just have to make do," he responded grimly. Houston 13's Palomino, Beezwax's Stag Pickup, and Molo's School Bus ripped up from the underground garage and were immediately fired upon by the Vigilantes.

"Boss, we're under attack by those do-gooders from earlier!" Molo said panicky over the CB. Down in the garage, Sid had reached his Manta and immediately reached for his walkie.

"Split up and take it to them," he ordered, a little annoyed at having to deal with amateurs before he noticed the Leprechaun sitting across the parking lot.

"And where the blazes is Boogie?!" he demanded.

Disco: Boogie was dancing, shuffling, and strutting in a pure form of disco fever. The disco ball above his head was flashing lights while fog masked the multicolored floor below. The dancer was in a state of pure nirvana to the point that the few other individuals in the room were phased out of his consciousness.

…Until a stray Interceptor Missile tore through the front door and impacted with the far wall blowing it out and the power in the room and Disco was shocked back into reality as outside, Beezwax's Stag Pickup raced by the now open front pursued by Convoy and Chassey with Molo bringing up the rear.

"Whoa," said Boogie in a stunned stupor before coming around. "Let's move to the groove!"

He raced for the door when the disco ball came loose and landed in his hands. Not one to ever discard anything disco related, he tucked the ball under his arm and ran out the door into the chaos as Sid's Manta slid to a halt next to him and the passenger side window rolled down.

"Hi boss," said Boogie sheepishly as he shifted the disco ball under his arm. Sid looked at him silently in the smoke filled inside before taking his spent cigarette and flicking it against Boogie's face.

"You're ever late again and you'll find yourself partying with St. Peters at the Pearly Gates if they're foolish enough to let you in," he commented ruefully before slamming on the accelerator as Slick's Clydesdale raced past firing bulls-eye rockets wildly everywhere, destroying what was left of the dance building. But then he was gone, being chased by Houston in her Palomino as Sid peeled out leaving Boogie to cough on the burnt rubber before running to the garage. Flames erupted behind him when Loki rushed firing his flame thrower which accomplished little as he was being fired upon from behind by Dave and Sheila.

"Disco Inferno, disco inferno!" he yelled panicky as he put out the fires on his disco suit before entering into the garage as Chassey shot down it being pursued by Sid who was firing his mosquito guns at her. The FBI agent barely succeeded in evading him by dropping a roadkill mine that Sid narrowly avoided before it went off tossing the hulking car wrecks against the far walls and nearly hitting Boogie. Then both raced out of the garage and back into the streets as the disco dancer finally reached his nearly undamaged vehicle and slammed the disco ball into the seat before leaping into the driver's seat and driving the vehicle out and onto the streets only to be hit by Convoy's truck and spun out.

Moth Truck: Convoy cocked an eyebrow at his damaged fender from hitting the Leprechaun but shrugged it off as he fired on Beezwax's camper. The fight had been give and take on both sides and it had barely been going on for five minutes but things were beginning to once more turn on the Vigilantes. These Coyotes were just too well equipped and too well organized. It was clear that if they survived this fight, they had to train better and harder when they met up again.

"Convoy," came a strange voice over his CB. The trucker looked at his radio in surprise at whoever that could be.

"This is he," he responded. "What's your handle and where're you at to want me?"

"My handle is Firestarter and I'm tail grabbing you right now!" came the voice. Convoy's eyes widened at that as he looked at his bullet ridden rearview mirror and saw the Manta pacing him and Sid Burn holding up his radio.

"Sid Burn…," began the trucker knowingly. "I know your name but I'm not sure how you know mine."

"Well aside from the fact that it's written on your rusted license plate that's barely hanging on, we have a mutual acquaintance," responded the alpha male of the Coyotes. Convoy racked his brain for who it could be before ultimately landing on one individual.

"And how do you know him?" he asked partly curious and partly to figure out how to elude the more agile vehicle. Sid didn't seem like firing his weapons at the truck while talking to Convoy and he wanted it to stay that way.

"Well if he didn't mention it…," Sid trailed off before shrugging it off. "Let's just say we found ourselves working together on a joint project between our governments before the world fell apart."

"I see," began Convoy as he began coming up with questions to ask John if he ever got the chance. "So why tell me this?"

"Because I intend on working with him again and that would include eliminating all distractions including you," Sid revealed evilly as all weapons aimed at the truck. "So long, be sure to keep on truckin' in hell for me."

But before he could fire, a wave of energy rocketed through the air blowing out windows and tearing the vehicles apart as Sid's was nearly blown off its front wheels. It was then accompanied by a massive musical blare as John Torque's Strider raced around a corner and straight at Sid's car all cannons blazing. The Coyote leader was getting chewed up before he activated an Interceptor Missile and used its booster rocket to propel him away from the enraged scientist.

"Coyotes, vanish!" he ordered. He hit the accelerator and took off as John's car continued rushing straight at him without any hesitation.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!" shouted John over the radio as he slammed the accelerator down even further and began slamming into Sid's rear fender.

"Chassey where are you?" shouted Convoy.

"A couple blocks down the strip, what's up?" she asked.

"John's coming your way, I need you to use that 'gridlock' thing of yours and disable his vehicle," he ordered.

"But-," Chassey began confused.

"Just do it!" Convoy yelled. Sid raced past her intersection she was parked at.

"Fine," she relented. "GRIDLOCK!"

Several phosphorescent EMP flares shot out the front of her vehicle and impacted with John's Strider causing its engine to cut out and roll to a halt.

"No, dammit, no!!!" he shouted in vain as the Coyotes vanished into the distance as the sun rose behind them.

"Relax old friend, we'll get them next time," Convoy swore trying to bring some calm to the madness they were just in as he wiped off his forehead with a handkerchief. "We'll get them next time."

"Bombs away!" shouted a voice triumphantly as the exhaust trail of a scatter missile arced through the air and raced over their head before detonating over the Galaxy Hotel, destroying the building and all inside. But before the Vigilantes could react, the blare of sirens was heard from whatever remained of the police and military forces and the Vigilantes were forced to flee the city and the devastation they had caused.


	6. Site 4

Las Vegas: _Whatever remained of the civil service agencies were trying to clean up the debris of the Galaxy Hotel as best they could. Thankfully the day had seen a respite in urban chaos after news and rumors circulated about the brief auto war that had torn up their 'fair' city. Though they knew the roving gangs that had taken over the freeways and that Route 66 was no man's land, the gangs had never verged into the major cities before. Some were terrified that things were about to get a lot worse while others felt that the cities should be made relatively safe against the dangers of the outside. And so the debate raged._

Several miles west: Slick Clyde slowly came to after having just been sleeping. He groggily blinked his eyes and then yawned, wondering where he was, before sitting up. …And then immediately hitting his head on the ceiling of his Clydesdale where he'd been sleeping in the back and was slammed back where he had been laying. He covered his face with his hand and held it in shame before grumbling to himself waiting his vision to stop become fuzzy.

"_One of these days I'm going to be somebody and then I'll have money and sleep in better vehicles_," he swore. "_Like an Excelsior Stretch Limo, yeah…_"

But that day clearly wasn't today and so the former playboy kicked open the back of his rusted SUV and slid out into the mid-morning sun. The Vigilante vehicles were all parked around a fire pit next to the freeway where they figured the police wouldn't venture this far from the city and the gangs wouldn't come this close to it. It evidently had paid off to Slick's mild surprise.

Looking around, he saw John Torque asleep on the hood of his car while holding tightly onto his shotgun. Slick wasn't sure what impetus had caused him to snap, but his warpath had arguably saved them all. With that in mind, it became slightly more vital to him that he figure out what that impetus was and make use of it in the future to his advantage.

His head then craned over to look at the Moth Truck where Convoy was sleeping unseen on a bed in the cab. Slick didn't particularly care for the old trucker, or any of them really, but he was the least fond of him. The playboy was convinced the trucker was leading them on the road to their deaths and that if _he_ were in charge, they'd have mopped up the Coyotes long ago and be reaping the rewards from the grateful. Though a small nagging inner voice said that maybe the reason he really didn't like Convoy was the complete opposite. That Convoy was a competent leader and if Slick were in charge, they'd already be dead. Unfortunately, it was a thought he couldn't shake and it irritated him.

"_Anyway, what kind of name is 'Convoy'? 'Slick' at least oozes of coolness_," he figured pleased with himself for that one absolute advantage he felt he had over the trucker. But then his attention turned towards Dave's van where Dave was in a sleeping bag on the ground as Sheila slept in the back of the vehicle. From what he'd managed to gather, they were practically siblings, which is why he chose to internally refer to them as 'Dumb and Dumber' and never concern himself about them again. They could all perish for all he cared and he wouldn't shed a single tear for any of them.

…But then there was Chassey… Slick had had plenty of flings in the past, the ladies couldn't keep their hands off him, but none of the conquests had particularly appealed to him. And they'd had personalities and appearances all over the spectrum so it was not like he had a limited range to compare them to. But something about Ms. Blue set her apart from the rest. She had brains, beauty, and passion but she also didn't like him. She knew about him and evidently some aspects of his past he'd thought long buried and this troubled him greatly. Despite being 27, he had skeletons in his closet and they would always remain there, he'd make sure of that.

Fortune must've been smiling on the vigilante for as he turned his head towards Chassey's Rattler and saw the driver's side door open and the agent emerge from it, stretching and yawning as she tried to get the kinks out from sleeping in her vehicle. Looking around, Slick fired up his Mr. Coffee that was sitting next to him and quickly brewed two cups and walked over to her with both mugs.

"Here," he offered to the agent as she briefly shivered in the unusually cold air while wrapping her blanket tighter around her body. The agent took the cup gratefully and sipped from it.

"Thanks," she said. Slick nodded and sat down on her hood with her and both looked out at the sun in silence, each enjoying their coffee.

"See, I'm not all bad," he offered after they had nearly finished their cups. Chassey had to think about that statement and did it by staring deep into her coffee mug and contemplating its black swirls.

"Perhaps," was all she could admit. Sid's eyes briefly narrowed before resuming their normal stare.

"So how do you know who I am?" he asked, carefully masking the inner demands his mind craved with casual conversation.

"Because my parents wanted me to profit off of my looks," Agent Blue responded. "So I went to a few pageants and did some extremely brief touring during the summers. And during one of them, you were there."

"Hmm," Sid commented, listening intently. "Well don't leave me in suspense, keep going it's just getting good now that I'm in it."

"Yeah," Chassey figured. "Anyway, long story short you were the talk of the town, in hushed rumors backstage, about something that'd happened in Houston. That sort of stuck to the back of my mind for awhile and so a few years later when I joined the Bureau, I looked to see if you had a file and you did. I read it, it was…enlightening."

"You a profiler?" asked Sid, a little bit of anger creeping in his voice despite himself. Chassey shook her head.

"No," she continued unabated. "But it's something all agents are trained in and you are a most interesting case, no offense."

Sid took a big gulp of his coffee to avoid a knee jerk response and calm himself.

"None taken," he choked out. "But how do you figure?"

Chassey looked at him deep in concentration. "It's because I can't figure out why you're here. The Slick Clyde I read about wouldn't be hanging out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of vigilantes trying to save the United States from a gang of rogues. I'm at a loss."

Slick nodded, breathing a sigh of relief in that she didn't have the full picture and refused to completely judge him as such.

"Yeah, I used to be exactly as you said," he admitted. "But I had a friend, a good friend, get killed by a roving gang. Since then, I've…tried to make myself a better person. But it's not easy because…well we all have our inner demons. I just hope you'll give me time to exorcise them before you make any final judgments about me."

Chassey was a little taken back by this heartfelt confession and even Slick was a little surprised that he'd just come out and said what on his mind. It felt good but at the same time he wondered if she'd ever blackmail him with it later.

"I'll do my best," she promised before pressing on. "But what is it you truly want out of life? What is it that keeps you going that makes you have these inner demons and strong desires to change?"

Sid stared out at the sun with calm silence as he took a deep breath and blew it out.

"That one day, I will _be_ somebody," he swore. "That one day when I walk down the street, people won't just see another pretty face in the crowd, they'll say 'there goes Slick Clyde and we should be grateful to be in his presence'."

Chassey looked a little concerned about that statement. "So you want to be a…"

Slick's expression dropped as he thought about what he'd said before he began laughing to himself. "Well I don't mean it like that, but you get my point. People will remember the name Slick Clyde one day, I promise you that," he continued before sliding across the hood right next to her so they were eye to eye. "But I'm willing to offer you a once in a lifetime opportunity to get in on the next big thing. So what do you say?"

Chassey's eyes bugged out and her jaw dropped at that statement as she looked the former model up and down as he offered her his sexiest smirk.

"Ahahahahahahahahaha!" she laughed hysterically while clutching her gut tightly as she threatened to drop her coffee mug. "Oh make it stop, it hurts! Ahahahahaha!!!"

Chassey couldn't stop laughing and shook her feet in agony as the other Vigilantes started to rise as Sid scowled and then dropped his head into his hands as Chassey curled up in a fetal position on her hood, still shaking as she clenched her mouth shut and tears began forming in her eyes.

"Yeah, laugh it up now blondie but one day in the future the tables will be turned," Slick swore leaning over her before retrieving his mugs and storming off back to his vehicle as the others gathered around the firepit.

A few miles away: Sid Burn sat up from his motel bed and swung his legs over the side and sat there regaining his senses. He yawned and glanced over briefly out the window with his bloodshot eyes and out at the courtyard where the vehicles lay. Houston 13 stood out there in the exact same spot where he'd left her to get some sleep and Sid didn't want to find out if she'd slept or not. The others were in their rooms of the abandoned motel with the exception of Molo who said he wasn't used to not sleeping on the floor of his bus and Beezwax already had a bunk in his camper. Taking a quick shower, and amazed there was still water, he then threw on his coat and walked out into the blazing sun.

He walked up to Houston and noticed that her eyes were closed and she was disturbingly completely still. The pyromaniac looked at her with his brow furled before looking down at her mechanical armband which was blinking various lights before shaking his head and walking off towards Loki who was rearming the vehicles from their backup supply located in Molo's bus. At the moment, the former test pilot for the military was polishing his Scatter Missiles with an old piece of cloth.

"Loki," Sid acknowledged as he shakily took out a cigarette and lit it, still disturbed by Houston's behavior or lack thereof.

"Boss," Loki responded with a nod as he continued wiping. Sid took a calming inhale of nicotine before speaking up again.

"So what can you tell me about Site 4?" he asked. Loki briefly stopped his wiping and squinted off in the direction of the still unseen site.

"R&D facility for the United States for a classified amount of years," he began. "The site located near Groom and Papoose Lake houses advanced experimental weapons and technology designed for future fighter craft but with the rise of vehicular warfare that soon became the driving focus."

"Oh," Sid said, extremely interested. "Any idea why Site 4 is so popular for advanced technology? I know they developed the U-2 and the SR-71 Blackbird there…"

"And the Lockheed Have Blue," Loki interjected. Sid looked at him confused.

"The what?" he asked concerned by this unknown factor. Loki looked at him with soulless eyes.

"The first operational stealth fighter prototype," the pilot responded. Sid laughed at that.

"Don't be ridiculous, practical stealth technology is a myth," he said knowingly. Loki shook his head while continuing his wiping.

"I flew one of the two that were built," he responded before craning his head to look up at the sun.

"We should go if we still hope to arrive at the facility with adequate amount of daylight left," he continued standing up and getting into his seat and turning over the engine.

"You know you didn't answer my question," Sid pointed out coyly as he stood next to Loki's still open door. Loki looked up at him with very human eyes for once.

"Site 4 is known among inner circles as Area 51," he repeated darkly. "Draw your own conclusions."

His Glenn 4x4 sped off leaving a rarely shaken individual behind. Sid lit a second cigarette for comfort before he spit both out when he heard:

"ALL SYSTEMS OPERATIONAL,"

Miles away: The Vigilantes were draining whatever gas was left from a roadside gas station that had long since been abandoned. Slick was annoyingly munching on an MRE while sitting on the back of Dave's van as both doors were open and the neo-hippie was tuning his flying saucers on the ground. He was also consulting his map that he'd bought at an underground convention that was an apparently stolen from Site 4 that detailed the entire layout. Nearby, Sheila was asking Chassey a thousand questions about the bureau. And still farther still, Convoy was in a heated discussion with John Torque.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Convoy insisted of his friend. John shook his head as he organized his deadly cache of weapons that filled the trunk below his Bass Quake speakers.

"There's nothing to talk about," said John cocking his rifle and resting the barrel on his shoulder. "I'm going to kill him and that's that."

Convoy sighed. ""_He piled upon the whale's white hump the sum of all the general rage and hate felt by his whole race from Adam down; and then, as if his chest had been a mortar, he burst his hot heart's shell upon it_," he added, as if _Moby Dick_ really meant something in this day and age.

"Yeah well, fuck it," John responded harshly, confirming his unanswered thought. "He knew what he was doing and I've had it with him. I should've killed him years ago. So what are we waiting for, let's roll."

Convoy sighed as he watched his friend slam the trunk closed and get behind the wheel and then tear off down the road in a blaze of sand and smoke. Convoy looked at the others and made a spinning motion with his hand that they should move. The others raced to their vehicles except for Slick who flipped Convoy off and continued enjoying his MRE before Dave's van flew out from under him and he landed in a heap in the sand. The playboy coughed on the smoke left behind while Dave's doors automatically closed as he drove off before continuing to chew on his sandy MRE and watched the others drift off into the distance.

"Oh, hell," he swore and threw his MRE aside and stormed off to his vehicle and fired it up and followed the group in his Clydesdale.

Site 4 aka Area 51: The Coyotes were parked on a ridge as Sid glanced through his binoculars at the site before performing some possible strategies in his head.

"This should be fun," Beezwax agreed dryly as he looked at the group of defense towers that according to Loki contained defensive laser cannons.

"Yeah, figures this would be the one base where its personnel wouldn't cut and run," Sid lamented as he looked at the troops patrolling the base as the two Lockheed Have Blues sat out near the runway engines running. "Shit!"

Beezwax laughed before groaning and looking off into the distance before the small sound of an airplane rotor was heard and the group looked out into the sky as a single rotor plane flew overhead.

PEWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!

A laser blast streaked over the group's heads and slammed into the plane which exploded into several pieces before the bulk of it raced down and impacted near the runway billowing smoke everywhere. Sid watched the smoke begin to obscure the base before a thought occurred to him and he looked over at the massive tailpipe on Molo's bus before glancing at Beezwax who nodded in agreement.

"Do you have a plan?" Molo asked conveniently. Sid nodded with an evil smirk.

"Yes, yes I do," he said as his smirk widened into a grin and Molo gulped nervously.

Nearby: The Vigilantes came to a halt on another ridge and looked out at the base and Nevada State Route 375 where Molo's bus was moving down it belching a large amount of smoke from his oversized tailpipe.

"The hell is he doing?" whispered Convoy confused as the vehicle turned towards the entrance to Site 4.

"Scanning," said Dave as Slick pulled up and realization hit him from the readouts. "Oh no…"

Entrance to Site 4: The perimeter guards tensed their weapons at the out of control school bus which was drawing ever closer.

"Attention unidentified driver if you advance any further then you will be fired upon!" declared one of the guards into their CB.

"Help, help!" declared the helpless Molo in tears as he struggled with his vehicle while even more smoke belched from it while talking on the radio. "I've got no control over this thing!!!"

The bus swerved left and right out of control as the guards looked at each other hesitantly and then switched the channel.

"Sir?" they asked.

"WHAT?" barked the angry response on the other end of General Gary Stokley in charge of the base.

"Sir, we have a bogey approaching the front gates, apparently out of control, and harboring a minor at the wheel," came the troop's response.

"Christ," came the response in disbelief. "Alright, escort him in full armored detail. We'll interrogate him later."

"Aye sir!" came the response. "Attention unidentified vehicle, we will escort you in but you are to bring your vehicle under control and stop on runway 2 or we will stop the vehicle for you by force. Understood?"

"Roger," came the frightened response as the gates opened and the bus rushed in leaving the soldiers to cough on the smoke. Helicopters moved in immediately from above and took up flanking positions overhead as military trucks did the same. They escorted the school bus to the middle of the long runway with three hangers to the left, barracks to the right, and the Lockheeds behind with the laser gun towers on the ridge nearby. The teenager finally slammed on the brakes as extremely thick black exhaust fumes covered the area as armed troops rushed the bus. Molo threw open the doors and the guards aimed their weapons at him.

"And what do you have to say for yourself?" barked General Jessup holding a handkerchief to his face to avoid gagging on the fumes.

"Take a whiff?" Molo offered half-heartedly before his expression turned more menacing.

_VROOM!_

"Or better yet, get to the back of my bus!" he challenged before slamming the door shut as the sounds of engines revving was heard behind him as the troops looked around in confusion.

"Is it getting hot in here? He, he, ha, ha, ha!" laughed a new voice over the CB. But before the troops could react, Sid Burn's '69 Manta ripped out from the smoke cloud behind the bus all weapons blazing as behind him, still in the cloud, sky hammer mortars fired on the laser emplacements, destroying them before the majority of them before they could react. Then the remainder of the Coyotes raced out in different directions avoiding the blasts from the other cannons and opened fire on everything that moved.

Nearby: The Vigilantes having seen what was transpiring and raced onto the dirt road with Chassey taking the lead followed by John, Sheila, Convoy, Dave and Slick.

"Alright folks, we no longer have the luxury of cover which means this could get ugly very quickly," Convoy said, preparing them. "The military also won't be able to distinguish us from them which makes our work that much harder. But we have to stop them from stealing war material from this base. I wish us all the best of luck."

The Vigilantes slammed through the main fence and erupted into the base as they once more joined in battle with the Coyotes.


	7. The Plundering of Site 4

A/N: I just realized I've switched Sheila and John's vehicle names. Halfway through this story I start referring to them as the right vehicles. Sheila should always have been in the Strider and John Torque in the Jefferson. Don't think I switched the vehicles for some odd reason, I didn't.

Site 4: "Oh hell, not these jokers again," Molo lamented as bullets slammed into the side of his bus as Chassey raced past followed by Houston who was firing bulls-eye missiles that narrowly avoided his front bumper.

"Easy, H!" he complained. "You nearly killed me!"

"99 PERCENT PROBABILITY THAT…," began her shrieking voice when Sid cut her off.

"Alright, alright, we get the point!" he shouted as mercifully she shut up and he unconsciously ducked as an Interceptor Missile screamed over his roof. "Molo, don't ask that thing any more questions. Now you and Beezwax follow Loki to get those weapons, the rest of us will try and hold them off."

"Roger that," came Loki's response as he peeled off with the others in pursuit. This movement wasn't lost on Convoy either.

"Dave, Slick, John, follow them," he ordered. Dave's van pulled off but Slick's 4x4 seemed to shift between following Dave and staying with the main battle and John made no move to follow.

"Are we supposed to stop them or collect weapons?" asked Slick curious. Convoy had to sigh at that question because he knew that now they really were being vigilantes by going against the enemy and the US government.

"Both," he decided instantly dreading the next question he knew would come up.

"And should the military get involved," Slick continued hesitantly. Convoy sighed even deeper.

"Do what you feel is necessary," he answered grimly. Slick nodded and headed off as John's car moved parallel to Convoy's truck.

"John, I need you to go with them because I know small arms fire is going to break out in those warehouses and those two know nothing about personal combat situations," Convoy insisted. The Jefferson continued driving with no response from the driver for a couple more tense moments before it slowly pulled away and Convoy let go of the air he hadn't realized he'd been holding in.

"Alright ladies," Convoy continued. "Split up and hit them hard. And Sheila?"

"Yeah," came his niece's response.

"Be careful," Convoy requested. The Rattler, Jefferson and Moth truck split up.

Warehouse: Rows upon rows of brown crates stood silently stacked up in Hanger 3 with a thick layer of dust and rot as if they hadn't been touched in years.

_CRRRASSSSHHHH!_

But that silence was broken as Molo's bus ripped through the far end and raced down one of the valleys of boxes before skidding to a halt at the other end with Loki and Beexwax. The trio exited their vehicles and Loki pointed off to a side door that the group quickly entered into. In a nearby warehouse, Slick, Dave and John rolled into it before exiting their vehicles and Dave advanced into the building armed with a rucksack full of toys as Convoy slammed shells into his double-barreled shotgun while Slick armed himself to the brim with every weapon he had on him including several grenades as John shook his head at him.

"Don't bother, they'll only slow you down," he pointed out. "Speed is the only thing that will save you from a bullet when you dive for cover."

Slick eyed him doubtful but left some of the guns in his vehicle and followed John after Dave.

"You ever killed a man before?" John asked pointedly. A shadow drifted over Slick's eyes and a semi-haunted expression appeared before he blinked and it was gone.

"Would it matter if I said yes or no?" he fired back. John shook his head as they kept following Dave down various hallways that were devoid of personnel.

"No, but I just thought I'd say that the feeling you get in your gut never goes away with each kill," the scientist revealed as Dave disappeared down another hallway.

"So…," began Slick loosely. John nodded.

"But I've been responsible for the deaths of countless more," he elaborated upon. "And I won't let it happen again."

John cocked his shotgun again for emphasis and Slick briefly gulped before tilting his head as shots were heard up ahead. Dave rushed past them with bullet holes grazing the sides of his shirt and jeans as Loki appeared around the corner and immediately ducked back as John fired a blast that took a chunk of the concrete and backed up the way he had come as Slick pulled out a pair of Berettas and aimed them at the corner and let off the occasional movement as he too backed out into a nearby room and John closed the door behind them.

"So what now?" asked Slick exasperated at their guide. Dave thought about it.

"Up into the air shafts we go," he motioned as he put a chair down and popped open the vent and crawled inside.

"Do we have a choice?" asked Slick hesitantly but that question was answered as the glass on the door was shot out with a hail of bullets.

"Alright, but he'd not get his fat ass stuck up there," Slick complained as he too got into the vent. John for his part jumped onto the chair and then pulled out a grenade he'd stolen from Slick and yanked the pin on it before throwing it out the door and quickly getting into the vent and crawling off as the ensuing explosion went off shaking the entire building.

Outside: Convoy noted the explosion despite the chaos around him, but there was little he could do about it as Boogie was currently harassing him with his bruiser cannon in apparent revenge for their earlier fender bender. Nearby, Shiela was hammering Houston with her tantrum gun and had her a little bit on the run. She had proven herself so far in combat to his surprise and it made him wonder where she'd picked up such skills. Yet this was still no place for a teenager and Convoy knew he had to have that talk with her sooner rather than later. If she died, he'd never forgive himself. He'd made a promise to his sister and brother-in-law that if anything happened to them he'd watch out for her, and something did happen and now he was no longer fulfilling his promise.

"Judging from the markings on your vehicle, I'd say you're the US Government's response to my little cruise through your country," Sid commented as he harassed Chassey's Rattler.

"That's right, Chassey Blue at your service," she quipped as their cars grinded together. "I of course know who you are, but you don't normally hang with a crew. Getting soft or is OMAR pushing them on you?"

That elicited laughter from the other end of the CB.

"Oh, you're too smart for your own good," Sid acknowledged. "But I supposed letting you in on who the rest of my team is couldn't hurt. Molo's the one with the school bus, Loki's in the Glen 4x4, Beezwax has the Stag with camper, Houston's over there in the Palamino and Boogie's in the Leprechaun currently harassing your friend Convoy."

"Interesting," said Chassey as she tried to write those names down on a notepad on the passenger's seat. "I guess you'd want to know our names as well."

"Mmm, maybe," Sid offered noncommittally. "I mean…it's not really necessary but could prove useful in directing your destruction."

Chassey was almost thrown by that response, not by the second part, but by Sid's nonchalance over his targets. But before she could immediately respond she had to jerk hard on the wheel as a laser blast slammed into the spot where she would have just been.

"Oh, ha, ha," she said sarcastically. "The ol' reverse psychology. Sometimes I forget that you're as educated as you are."

Sid cracked a smile though she couldn't see it as he dropped a roadkill mine that went off near the Rattler that threw it onto its roof where it slid along the ground before Chassey had the inspiration to fire off a sky hammer mortar point blank to the ground that once more righted it.

"Hope you had your seatbelt on, most vehicle related fatalities are a result of not wearing them," Sid commented with a dark laugh as he pulled off.

"Shit," said Chassey, pressing her hand down on her scalp. Though she hadn't hit her head and nearly given herself a concussion, she nearly had and that little bit of pain was what she felt now. Sid was ruthless no doubt about it and was not one to be underestimated as the conversation proved. He could be charming and deceiving as to who he was and then moments later lash out and reveal his true colors. In a sense, he was like Slick and that thought concerned her, something she'd have to file away for later as she once more joined the fray to help out Sheila.

Vents: Slick was grumbling to himself about getting his trendy designer clothes all dirty and torn.

"Did I mention this was a great idea," he said for the umpteenth time. John rolled his eyes and briefly ruminated over not bringing any buckshot to shoot the 'pretty' boy with.

"It would've been worse carrying around all those weapons. You'd likely have gotten stuck," he reminded him. "And we can't afford dead weight."

Slick groaned at that one. "Everyone's a fucking comedian in this place."

That got a chuckle out of John despite his best intentions not to before shame took over from the loss of his brothers and he poked Slick in the rear with his shotgun to keep moving.

Behind them: Beezwax, Loki and Molo were still coughing on the smoke and debris left over from the grenade explosion. Molo was on the tiled floor shaking scared at the ordeal of having been so close to live ordinance and might very well have peed his pants, he wasn't quite sure.

"Kid, you wouldn't have lasted five minutes in Normandy," Beezwax said in disgust as he looked at the shivering lump of an individual.

"Nor Vietnam," chimed in Loki in a rare speaking moment. The two looked at each other and nodded before Beezwax helped the kid to his feet.

"So what now, they could be anywhere," Molo reasoned. Beezwax nodded and produced a large box that he had been lugging around earlier.

"I'd been hoping to save this for later, but times are desperate," he lamented. He took the crate and got on a charred table and pushed the box into the airshaft as best he could as the burnt ceiling crumbled around him.

"I hope this isn't asbestos," he grumbled and then hopped off the chair and headed off with the others and trailed a wire behind him before producing a trigger mechanism and pressed the button and a buzzing sound was immediately heard.

"What was that?" Molo asked curious as the buzzing sound trailed off. Beezwax gave him a wide menacing grin.

"Biological warfare,"

Vents: "I think being in this vent is wrecking my ears," Slick complained as he tried to pop his ears. "I hear buzzing, a lot of buzzing."

"Really?" said Dave, his interest piqued. "Me too man, far out!"

Slick's jaw dropped at that statement before looking behind him into the darkened vent and seeing nothing…but at the same time imagining that he saw reflections of hundreds of small objects racing at them.

"John?" Slick asked concerned. "I think we have a problem."

"I'm working on it," came the brisk response from ahead, as in one larger vent, he had managed to squeeze past the rest and take the lead, but what he was doing was unknown because of one major obstacle to Slick.

"Dave, I can't see past your fat ass," the playboy commented harshly. But Dave just laughed at that.

"More padding for what's coming," he declared as he pulled out a strange device and began fiddling with it. "Sensors show signs of animalistic life approaching."

"Okay, but what the hell is it?" Slick wanted to know. Dave turned and gave a big grin, even though Slick was now looking behind.

"Don't worry, Slick, bee happy!" he laughed. Slick now saw what was coming at them.

"Oh, shit!" he shouted and slammed into Dave as he tried to crawl away from what was coming at them. "John!"

"I said I'm working on it!" he shouted as the attackers swarmed all around them.

Outside: Chassey had succeeded in getting her vehicle on her side wheels as she deftly maneuvered between Convoy's Moth Truck and Molo's parked school bus as she fired all weapons at Sid who was pursuing him. The leader of the Coyotes yanked hard on his wheel and moved to the side as a bruiser cannon shot from Chassey's car knocked his Manta 180 degrees around and left a decent sized dent in the rear of the vehicle.

"Yes!" she declared ecstatic.

"DEATH RAY!" roared a voice as a laser beam slammed into the underside of her car causing it to tumble onto its roof.

"Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Sid as he moved in for the kill when suddenly a barrage of missiles rained down from above.

"The hell?" inquired the gang leader as his car was nearly blown off of its wheels by the wake of a fast moving black craft. One of the Lockheed Have Blues hurtled directly over the warring vehicles heads before spinning around and showing off its full complement of missiles and rockets. In its cockpit was a blood soaked four star general Gary Stokely with a crazed look in his eyes as he clutched the stick with ever whitening hands.

"This base will remain secure! All hostile targets must be eliminated!" he roared over the radio and fired on all the vehicles below, Vigilante and Coyote.

Room: Screams and shouts could be heard along with heavy buzzing before an explosion ripped through the ceiling causing Slick, Dave and John to fall through onto the floor as a swarm of angry bees raced for the exit to the room as sprinklers doused the lot of them.

"Oh man, wipeout," said Dave coughing on the dust from the explosion and then wiping his glasses from the water.

"Happy?" asked John Torque getting to his feet and checking his weapons while hovering over Slick Clyde.

"No," came the embittered response. "My money making face and body are covered with bee stings and my clothes are fucking ruined because they're dry clean only! How the hell does the hottest place in the entire United States also be the only place that has running water?!"

John's mouth trembled as he struggled to repress something before he burst out into laughter along with Dave and eventually Slick joined in, despite himself.

"C'mon, we've still got work to do," said John heading for the exit. Slick ejected his magazines from his Berettas and loaded a couple more and cocked them.

"Just so long as we kill somebody along the way," he declared. "And will somebody please shut off this damn water!"

Outside: A stray interceptor missile destroyed the water tower outside as the Have Blue raced past it before the fighter arced around and carpet bombed the ground once more.

"Can't seem to get a lock!" declared Sheila upset at her failed attempt to bring down the craft.

"Because it's stealth!" declared Chassey as she cut in front of the Sheila's Jefferson and fired a sky hammer mortar at the fighter that went wide and took out a group of soldier barracks. To Chassey's relief, no one emerged from it on fire, but Boogie's Leprechaun tore through the resulting kindling and fired on her and Sheila as both split apart.

"Cannon to the right of them, cannon to the left of them, cannon in front of them…," Convoy ruminated as he used an interceptor missile to race ahead of the Vulcan cannon shots the fighter was spewing at him.

"I'm more curious how we got stealth technology so early," Chassey commented. "After the government more or less collapsed, documents being considered classified went out the window and everything I read said we were still a couple years off before getting something that would work."

"John always said that classified documents were overrated," Sheila remarked, turning hard on the wheel as Sid's car raced past being pursued by the Have Blue. "After all, when did we develop laser technology? OMAR I could understand, but it's not like R&D is getting funded by the government these days."

"Better leave the mysteries for another day. So tell me, Mr. Burn, isn't this the point in the story where you propose a truce in order for us to join forces to take out the enemy harassing us all?" Convoy felt he had to ask as he pulled away from the still functioning ground based point defense lasers that hadn't been eliminated by Sid and his crew. Though Convoy was somewhat interested in what they were still defending that he couldn't see over the crest of the hill. But getting himself killed wouldn't answer that particular question.

"Hardly," came Sid's disinterested voice. "I don't care if he somehow kills you and your vigilantes."

"Oh yeah?" yelled an irate and dogmatic Sheila. "What about your men? Don't you care about them?"

Silence.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!" laughed Sid hysterical as he nearly lost control of his vehicle into the other barracks that were still standing. To this, the Vigilantes disgustedly switched their radios over to another channel as the Have Blue arced past for another strafing run.

"If they want to burn, that's their choice, but we need options," Convoy decided. His Moth Truck, Sheila's Strider and Chassey's Rattler formed a triangle as they raced down one of the runways on the base.

"I have an idea, but I'm reluctant to suggest it," Chassey admitted finally.

"Any option is better than none," the trucker pointed out. A laser blast flew out and nearly hit the Have Blue before it raced between a pair of the laser sentries and vanished from sight.

"Okay so here are the facts," began the FBI Agent. "The fighter is stealth so we can't lock onto it with any accuracy and it's too fast to bother with leading a straight shot to bring it down. So it's radically advanced, we know that much. But…as advanced as that fighter is, I can't believe there's any way it's not made with conventional materials. So it's made of metal and metal can be locked onto it and we have the tools at our disposal to do it."

Convoy furled his brow at her statements, but they made sense and yet... "But the only thing that could do that would be a…"

"Yeah…," said Chassey nodding her head. "A bear hugger mine, meaning we'd have to somehow maneuver ourselves _on top_ of the fighter to make sure it definitely attaches. The thing moves too fast to try and laying a mine on the ground and getting it to attach that way."

"Sounds dangerous," Sheila figured as she let her Tantrum Gun track the other opposing Coyotes who were now off in the distance.

"Oh, it gets worse," admitted Chassey, thankful for the brief reprieve in the fighting. "Not that I know how to do complex spatial calculations in my head, but from what I remember about that and aerospace engineering, that ledge to our five o'clock is the only place where we could launch a vehicle over anything, really. And according to what I know about us and our vehicles, Sheila and her Strider are the only ones who would be able to pull it off."

…

"WHAT?!?!?!"

Inside: Molo and Beezwax were leaning against a wall as Loki picked a lock to a massive warehouse.

"So what's your story, kid?" Beezwax asked of Molo to relieve the boredom.

"Why do you care?" Molo sneered. Beezwax laughed as he produced a piece of dried honeycomb and took a crunchy bite out of it.

"Believe me, kid, I don't. But that's a state of the art 8-A-12 military lock and even if you knew what you were doing it would take awhile to get it open. I'm just trying to save you the embarrassment of going out of your juvenile mind while you wait for him to get it open," the beekeeper revealed as he took another bite. Molo gave him a knowing smirk.

"How do you know that you won't go mad before I do?" he asked snidely. Beezwax looked up at him under the brim of his straw hat and gave him a look of knowledge beyond his years.

"Believe me kid, I went mad a long time ago," he stated before shrugging and leaning heavier into the wall. "But it's your choice, I'm not living your life."

"Fine," said Molo. If the old fart wanted to be bored to tears than Molo was only happy to oblige. "I'm fat, I always got picked on, I couldn't complete the fitness tests and I want the world to suffer."

"And what are you hoping to achieve?" asked Beezwax. Molo looked at him strangely.

"What does that matter?" asked Molo. "I don't need a goal to do this."

"_Yes_, you do," Beezwax swore. "If you don't, then that means you intend on going out in a blaze of glory, great to look at but ineffective. A goal means you're motivated to survive and not quit until you accomplish it. So you'd better think of a goal and fast and stick with it through thick and thin."

"Whatever," said Molo, though in his mind he figured having a final goal wouldn't be a complete loss provided he could ever come up with one. "Then what's your goal, Mr. High and Mighty?"

Beezwax's gaze zoned out as if he were thinking about some distant event that even he couldn't fully remember.

"My life ended on July 16th, 1945 at Trinity," he revealed before turning to Molo with eyes that seemed submerged in darkness and with a crazed and malicious stare that nearly caused the teenager to wet himself in fear. "So I am going to acquire the deadliest weapons this world has ever seen and use them on those who were responsible for my death. For I am become death, the destroyer of worlds."

Molo briefly shied away from him when he heard a click and Loki stood up and pushed the door open.

"Access granted," he declared as inside the hanger were weapons and devices of all shapes and sizes, many of which the trio had never even seen before.

Nearby, a vent was kicked open and John Torque rolled into the hangar with his shotgun at the ready as Dave spilled out in a flop and Slick came out feet first and instantly stood up before John pulled him down. They could see the Coyotes but thankfully they were oblivious to their presence.

"What are we hiding for? Let's just shoot their asses!" Slick hissed. John shook his head in shame.

"Maybe you haven't noticed, but this is the primary R&D lab for black ops projects that the military doesn't want you to know about," he shot back. "I only recognize some of this stuff here but believe me you _don't_ want it or anything else to go off. The flesh would melt off your bones before you realized you'd made a mistake."

"So what do you suggest oh fearless leader?" said Slick with disgust. John motioned his hand forward.

"Hope you're good at hand to hand combat ki-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-d!" began John as his voice began to waver greatly. The Have Blue was heard rushing overhead, its wake rattling the building as it went back on the hunt of those outside.

Outside: General Stokely was slowly losing consciousness as his fighter began to lazily drift from side to side. Blood was everywhere inside the cockpit and the aerial maneuvers he was pulling at dangerously high speeds were quickly taking a toll on his body that hadn't really been in peak condition to begin with. But he refused to surrender until the invaders were dead. He had seen society crumble thanks to the ineptitude of the government that he had served so long and he had vowed that his base would remain the last bastion of strength of the United States military. And in time, his base would pool their strength and restore the law, with him as their leader. Stokely would rule with an iron fist and never allow anything to weaken his nation ever again.

But first things first…

"Come on you interlopers, where are you?" grumbled the General as his fighter swept over the wreckage that had once been his base. But there was no sign of vehicular activity below and things were strangely quiet, aside from the flames that spanned the base. The Have Blue made two more sweeps of the compound and Stokely was considering giving up, when a mass of phosphorescent flares arced through the sky right at him. Stokely barely managed to avoid them as he quickly scanned the ground as a blue and yellow sports car raced out from under him and clung to the nearby hills, seemingly for cover.

"Good," Stokely acknowledged as he moved his finger over the trigger, while simultaneously slowing down the fighter in order to get a lock. "But not good enou…"

VRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!!

A loud noise was heard even over the roar of his own supersonic engines as a small car was seen cresting over his cockpit from right to left and then beyond his vantage point as his craft continued onwards. And then an explosion ripped through the rear craft causing it to plummet from the sky.

Below: The Vigilantes watched the explosion rip through the rear of the Have Blue as the fighter slowly fell from the sky. But as the flaming fighter descended, it was still on a pursuit course with the small buggy.

"If I die now, I'm taking one of you with me!" Stokely roared over the radio as he slammed on the accelerator and the craft hurtled straight at Sheila.

"SHEILA, GET OUT OF THERE!!!" roared Convoy. He and Chassey were at least a quarter of a mile behind the out of control fighter that they still couldn't lock on to despite the damage done to it.

"At that speed, if she were to jerk hard on the wheel she'd flip over!" shouted Chassey as she took ineffectual potshots at the fighter with her bruiser cannon.

"Well, what do you suggest?" Convoy hissed back. Chassey's expression turned instantly glum.

"I'd say pray, but we're in hell already," she commented grimly. The four vehicles raised across the desert. The damaged fighter inching ever closer…ever closer…ever closer…

Until…

"DEATH RAY!" shouted a voice as laser blasts from out the horizon tore up the fighter and caused it to hurtle over Sheila's head and slam into the ground ahead of her and continue along the ground as Stokely's ragged bone chilling screams echoed over the radio. The fighter continued scrapping across the ground leaving a ditch behind it as it bore down on a hanger in the distance…

Hanger: The Vigilantes and Coyotes were within arm's length of each other.

"Get ready…," declared John. But before he could give the order to attack, the ground began shaking heavily as flames could be seen outside the hanger windows rapidly approaching the building along with the telltale sound of the Have Blue.

"Oh shit! Get down!" roared John as he grabbed Slick and Dave by their collars and dragged them backwards as the fighter impacted with the doors causing them to explode inwards. The ensuing shockwave hurtled the six individuals in the hanger in different directions and knocked over several objects in the room. As the Vigilantes and Coyotes groggily got to their feet, Sid's Manta roared through the flames and came to a halt with Boogie's Leprechaun and finally after a couple moments, Houston 13's yellow and black Palomino. The leader of the gang stepped out of his vehicle and looked around the place with interest and a little disappointment.

"_Perhaps it was a mistake sending the drivers of the vehicles with the most cargo room in here…_," he ruminated. He was still deciding what to do when a voice rang over the radio.

"Eat this!" as the far wall exploded from a lemming missile as an El Camino with a U-HAUL trailer drove through and stopped nearby.

"Ah, what the hell are you doing here?!" Sid demanded as Nina Loco appeared and threw back her red hair to straighten it.

"You need to get the weapons out of here, OMAR hired me to get the weapons out of here…I'd say opportunity's knockin'," she responded smugly as she tapped on the hood of her truck. Sid scowled deeply at her before motioning for his troops to begin loading the truck and trailer. He was about to gather some items when a bullet raced past his head and nicked the top of his ear.

"Nice shot, Johnny!" he yelled into the flames as he rubbed his ear and looked at the blood on his fingers. "But not good enough!"

The pyromaniac for hire aimed his rifle into the flames and fired a round that he knew would never hit before motioning his team to being loading the El Camino and trailer with anything they could grab. More bullets came flying and then all hell broke loose when Convoy's truck slammed through a part of the broken bay door and caused fires to rage everywhere as the vehicle opened fire on everything that moved with its bruiser cannon. The Rattler and Strider broke in as well and also began unloading their weaponry into the fray. The weapons were then set for covering fire as the drivers entered the maelstrom. The battle raged for several minutes of furious moments as bullets narrowly grazed or even penetrated some portions of the various members, though miraculously in non-vital areas.

Until…

Sid had decided he'd had enough with bullets and instead decided to start lobbing flash grenades to try and cover the Coyotes escape, but after several flashes, he accidentally threw a shrapnel grenade and it exploded driving metal everywhere. One piece in particular slammed into an electronic door switch that nobody had noticed and it slowly and loudly opened. The loud noise and door movement temporarily stopped the fighting, but what they saw beyond the door really stopped all movement to a standstill.

"Oh…my…God," said Convoy. Beyond those doors was a floating Unidentified Flying Object, complete with ray gun on top and what could only be described as an alien frozen in a glass tube nearby stood motionless.

"Whatever," said Sid unimpressed as he threw a real grenade this time that exploded and soon every weapon in the hanger started exploding. The Vigilantes quickly grabbed what they could as well and all drove off in different directions as the whole hanger went up.

"Chassey, where's the nearest FBI field office?" barked Convoy as his truck took the lead of the team as they headed down the freeway.

"Henderson, the government moved it there from Las Vegas after the riots erupted and destroyed the old building," she responded as she tried to drive while leafing through one of the directories she'd nabbed before leaving D.C.

"Then that's where we're going for now," ordered the trucker.

"But our little green friend!" protested Dave as he reluctantly brought up the rear of the convoy.

"But nothing!" responded Convoy. "Whatever the hell that was, it's none of our concern now."

"Assuming it even was what it appeared to be," muttered John offhand.

"What?" asked Convoy.

"Nothing," came the quick response. "Let's just keep moving, the gangs usually come out more as the sun gets lower."

Convoy briefly wondered what John meant by his earlier statement before letting it go as just random musings.

"Then let's move 'em out!" he said. And the convoy moved on towards the orange hue of a Las Vegas that was on fire.

Site 51: Fires raged too and fro as what was left of the base crew struggled to get it under control. The weapons hanger had effectively burned itself out and was now a charred mess so the base crew left it alone for fear of radiation.

But for the hanger behind it…no one knew of the contents it carried was one General Stokely whose current status was unidentifiable. And with no one going to check the hanger, no one would know of the flying saucer and the tube that contained its owner. A tube that was now lying on its side with cracks splintering across it as the fluid inside it slowly poured out onto the floor. As it did so, the figure inside almost seemed to shift as its eyes seemed to turn from distant to extremely focused.

"_Let the invasion begin!_"

A/N: Yes, it's 'Y' the Alien. I wasn't sure if I was going to include him or not, but I found a way to have him while still keeping the overall tone realistic.


	8. White Lightning

Henderson, Nevada: As the weary Vigilantes rolled through the abandoned city as in the background, the familiar orange glow of fires raging in Las Vegas permeated the horizon greeted them.

"Why won't it just burn itself to the ground, already?" Slick complained, defeated, echoing the thoughts of the others.

_America was burning, the world was burning, and here they were trying to stop one more fuel can from being added to the fire. Would it make a difference in the long run if they actually succeeded or failed? They didn't know because they couldn't see the future. And if anyone from the future had anything to say about it, they would never know that either. So all the Vigilantes could do was keep moving forward and live in the present, because the past and the future were two places none of them wished to ever visit._

The trashed FBI field office loomed in front of them. Thankfully it was not on fire, though clearly it had been gutted pretty thoroughly by whatever roving armalite gangs existed in the area. The Vigilantes slowly pulled into through the damaged front doors and came to a halt in the lobby, although Convoy's truck had to sit just outside the building.

"Gee, nice digs Chassey," said Slick dryly as he poked at various pieces of mold with his shotgun. "I think I want to join the FBI now, the décor is just so…inviting."

"Shut up," declared Chassey bitterly at him as he flashed his sly smile. "Just shut up."

That elicited a laugh from the playboy as he continued his inspection of the building. The Agent for her part, walked over to the one of the computers that hadn't been destroyed and began fiddling with it after being unable to turn it on.

"Dave, can you help me with this?" she asked over her shoulder as she worked on the internal wiring.

"Right on," said the hippie as he knelt down next to her and began messing with the wiring as well.

"What're you trying to do?" asked Convoy, curious as he took a position to watch what they were doing.

"I'm hoping to see if we can't connect with the FBI's databases via ARPANET," she responded.

"Huh?" came Convoy's bewildered response. Chassey look to John hoping he could explain it, as she was busy trying to get the computer working.

"ARPANET was a project cooked up by the Department of Defense. In layman's terms, it allows for two computers to be able to communicate with each other," he explained briefly. "Before things came apart thanks to OMAR, there were several ideas about possibly creating an information roadway of sorts with computers communicating all over the world to increase the spread of information."

Chassey nodded. "The FBI got a hold of ARPANET and used it to link up terminals in their various field offices. I'm hoping to use it to try and figure out what Sid is up to."  
"Really, how?" asked John now curious. Chassey briefly grinned for the first time in awhile.

"We have a mole in OMAR who told us about Sid's arrival and they've been giving us regular updates so I'm hoping to see if they've got any information on where he's headed to," she responded. Dave took a cable from the computer and ran in into a nearby wall.

"Wow," said John as he whistled at that. "OMAR doesn't handle traitors very well."

"I know," agreed Chassey as she got up and sat at the front of the computer. "But they've been there for awhile and haven't gotten caught so…"

CRRRAAAASSHHHH

Everyone jumped as the loud sound of something falling over was heard in another room and an instant later, colorful metaphors could be heard coming from one Slick Clyde.

"Go check on him, please," asked Convoy to Sheila who took off to the other room. He watched her go before turning to John.

"Do you think this arpa whatever has any chance of working?" the leader had to ask. His second in command shook his head.

"No," he concluded. "In fact, I think it's more likely OMAR is feeding the government the information it needs to be outmaneuvered."

"Alright, we're in business," said Chassey, pleased, as the machine powered up and she eagerly sat down at the controls. Convoy looked at Torque who just softly shrugged indifferent to the idea, but still somewhat interested in seeing ARPANET in action, and stood with the others as Chassey began inputting commands into the device.

Elsewhere: A lone fire was seen in the cold desert night as the wind whipped it back and forth. Sitting next to it and poking it with a stick was Coyote Leader Sid Burn, who was staring deeply into the flames. The others were all asleep, all except him…or so he thought.

"You seem like a man with the world on his shoulders," came a voice snapping him out of his reverie. Beezwax appeared from the dark and sat next to him with a tin coffee pot and a cup. "Upset about the choices you've made in life?"

Sid laughed. "Hardly. No, I'm just thinking about those Vigilantes, they're proving to be more trouble than I originally gave them credit for."

Beezwax nodded in agreement. "They are resilient to say the least."

"And they should be, I have an old friend who is with them," Sid revealed. Beezwax nodded sagely.

"We can rarely afford friends in this line of work," he pointed out, though he knew Sid already knew this.

"I know, but John was the only friend I've ever had," Sid somehow felt compelled to say as he continued poking the dying flames before he looked up at Beezwax with a look that could cause anyone's blood to freeze. "And we could accomplish anything together!"

His pressed his thumb so hard on the stick that it snapped in half and fell into the fire, causing it to briefly flare up. He then looked up again of pure hatred and rage.

"I won't let him live a lesser life of looking out for others!" he swore. "I'LL KILL HIM FIRST!!!"

He then stood up and angrily stalked off to his vehicle and slammed the door shut angrily. The beekeeper merely took a swig of his coffee and continued watching the horizon, long after the fire in front of him had died.

FBI Building: A door opened into a darkened room as Sheila nervously entered with her hand on her taser. She didn't believe in personal firearms and neither did Convoy, though he at least kept a shotgun on hand, and so the electrical device had been rigged for her by Dave one day.

"Mr. Clyde?" she asked, a little concerned. She didn't really know what to make of the playboy. On the one hand, she did have to reluctantly admit that he did look kind of cute, but on the other hand, he scared her. He always put on a charming smile and made disarming remarks, but it always seemed like there was something darker lurking beneath the surface. Almost as if there were two drastically different sides to his persona fighting for control. Chassey's comments about him a couple days back only served to further confirm this, though what he had done to deserve her comments, she wasn't too eager to find out.

"Mr. Clyde?" she asked again. Again there was no response and Sheila was about to leave when a section of the ceiling came loose above her and plummeted straight to the ground. Sheila was so stunned that she didn't even scream as the tiling barreled right at her, just involuntarily crouched and covered her head in terror. Only a miracle could save her now.

A bright flash filled the room and moments later a deafening explosion blasted everything not bolted down against the walls as a lightning bolt arced in from a nearby hole in the ceiling and straight into the ceiling chunks, vaporizing them into dust. Sheila was now even more speechless as dust fell all over the room. Looking around anxiously for any other surprises, but instead only complete silence greeted her. The whole exchange had occurred in less than five seconds.

"The hell was that?!" she asked out loud. Not that she expected anyone to respond, but at least it confirmed she hadn't gone deaf from the explosion.

"Lightning," answered a soft response that nearly caused her to fall over. Jerking head to the side, she saw a brief glint from a darkened corner of the room that resolved itself into Slick Clyde's eyes when he leaned from the shadows while in a sitting position on a nearby cabinet.

"You okay, kid?" he asked further. Sheila shakily got to her feet as Slick watched emotionlessly. He made no move to help her up on her own.

"What the hell was that?!" was all she could think to respond with.

"I already told you," he answered as if it was clearly obvious what had happened and a little annoyed that he had to repeat it. Sheila groaned and rolled her eyes as she patted down her hair that had stood on end from the charged room.

"Lightning doesn't do that!" she exclaimed. Slick laughed at that.

"Ordinarily, no," he humbly agreed before producing an AM/FM radio that he'd pulled from his 4x4. "But I guess you noticed the new antenna I have sporting on my vehicle." Sheila had, Slick had taken it out and immediately attached it to his vehicle. It was a very large radio antenna to say the least.

"Yeah, what of it?" asked Sheila not sure where this was going.

"Let's just say it's not just a signal amplifier, but it can call down thunder from the heavens," he responded as he began adjusting the knobs on the device. From the open hole in the roof came several flashes as more lightning cracked around outside.

"A little gift I found at Site 4," he said with a menacing smile as he chuckled along with the flashes above them. Sheila thought it sounded a little malevolent, but it may have just been the elements of the décor and the wind blowing in through the open holes above them.

"That's a lot of power for one man," she said to try and assert herself in front of him. Slick raised an eyebrow quizzically at her change in demeanor from earlier when she had been scared by the display of power, but shrugged it off with a shrug. Sheila shook her head in disagreement and headed for the exit in order to get herself out of this uncomfortable situation.

"So tell me," said Slick, obviously knowing her intentions to leave right away. "Why are you here?"

Sheila stopped at the doorway and rested her right arm against the doorframe and sighed.

"Does it matter?" she asked as tears threatened to form in her eyes as the weight of the past few days was slowly starting to creep up on her.

"Everything matters," responded Slick as if this was a concrete law in the universe. "John is here for revenge, Chassey is here out of out duty, Convoy is here because that's just who he is, and Dave…Dave's too much a bonehead to realize he'd be better off elsewhere. So that just leaves you."

Sheila whirled to face him with angry eyes.

"What about you?!? You're the one with no reason to be here!" she declared. Slick was a little taken aback by her sudden ferocity before breaking out into a genuine disarming chuckle as he hopped off the cabinet and stood next to her.

"Yeah, you're right," he admitted lightly as he gave a mild chuckle and scratched the back of his head nervously. "I'm still trying to figure that part out, but it is nice to know that I'm finally with a crew that actually cares about each other."

Sheila nodded as she wrapped herself up in her arms and shivered briefly.

"But what about when…," she began looking up at him needing to know. Slick nodded, knowing what she was getting at.

"Hey, when push comes to shove, I will shove back," he promised as he crossed his heart to reassure her. "**I willingly got myself into this mess, I will get myself out.** Now let's go see what the others are up to."

With that, he was gone, leaving Sheila alone with her thoughts about this enigmatic man. He did mean what he said, but his eyes during his second to last sentence had such darkness to them that it spooked her. She knew Chassey had had prior dealings with the man, and it was something she decided she would bring up when the two were alone. But until then, all she could do was hurry and rejoin the others and some normalcy.

But as she re-entered the main room, she saw Chassey, John, and Dave looking at a computer screen and its numerous lines of code while comparing them with several punch cards. Slick was now sitting on the hood of his 4x4, toying with his tape deck while her uncle walked in from the outside shaking his head and talking about the strange lightning storm outside.

Sheila sighed deeply to herself. _Normalcy was overrated_…

Campsite: Loki was asleep in his army sleeping bag next to his jeep, Boogie and Molo were both sleeping on different benches on the bus, Sid was asleep in his car, and Beezwax was trying to get some sleep in his camper when a series of strobe lights from outside his back door caught his attention. Blinking groggily, he looked out his fogged up window as a harsh wind blew sand across the open range as a storm rapidly approached their campground.

But though thunder and lightning crackled back and forth amongst the clouds, it was not the cause of the strobe effect. Rather, it was a lone figure standing straight at the storm as if inviting its wrath. The figure stood with arms outstretched to their sides as the storm descended on the group with thunder and lightning crackled everywhere. But to the chorus of the lightshow above came a lightshow on the individual's left arm. Blue, red, yellow and other assorted colors of lights that were blinking in rapid succession, but for what, the beekeeper couldn't tell.

And then abruptly Houston 13 spun and stared right at him…with sharp piercing red eyes that seemed to stare into his soul as the wind whipped her hair back and forth and the storm raged behind her face. It was a look of pure evil in those eyes and the beekeeper couldn't help but wonder who she had been before OMAR had gotten a hold of her…and what they had done to make her the way she was right now.

But that would be a conversation he would have to have with Sid at some unknown point in the future. The Cyborg thankfully chose to ignore his spying on her and returned her attention to the storm, just as a lightning bolt slammed into the mechanical apparatus on her arm. With that, all the lights began glowing on the armband as sparks and electricity began coursing through it before Houston flung up her arm and an energy discharge rocketed up into the sky and just like that, the storm mysteriously dissipated.

It stunned Beezwax…and it was in the resulting light from the blast, he could clearly make out Molo staring at the spectacle as well from his bus window. Beezwax wondered if the kid would faint and piss himself. But in another piece of amazement in a night full of them, the kid's features took on a dark look as he glared at the cyborg. He stared at Houston long and hard before flipping her off with his left hand and vanishing from sight, evidently going back to sleep.

"_Sound advice_," the beekeeper reasoned as he took one last look at the woman, who was now slumped over and her armband was now completely dark and then shook his head disapprovingly before going to sleep.

FBI Building: Slick was sleeping on the hood of his car with his back on the windshield and the radio cradled in his hands. He now had a cowboy hat he had found from somewhere now resting over his face as he snored away. Sheila was asleep in the bed in Convoy's cab while the trucker himself slept in a sleeping bag on the floor of the building. John for his part was passed out on the back seat of his Jefferson and Chassey and Dave were both hunched over the computer out cold.

…Until the computer suddenly came to life and screens began flashing across it in rapid succession waking the two of them up.

"The hell?" said Chassey confused as the computer kept scrolling through screens at a rapid pace and soon began shooting out punch cards all over the floor. She looked over at Dave, perplexed, as he could only shrug his shoulders in confusion and then went to pick up all of the cards. As Chassey grabbed a pen and notepad and tried to make sense of the flashing screens, she was briefly startled as Slick crashed down in the chair next to her.

"What's going on, gorgeous?" he asked in a southern drawl, half asleep as he yawned to himself and tipped back his cowboy hat and looked bleary eyed at the screens.

"Nothing that concerns you," Chassey replied, wanting to quickly get rid of him so she could concentrate on this new data coming in. "Just go back to sleep."

"Okay," he agreed amicably as Chassey breathed a sigh of relief. "If you join me, that is. Ahahahahaha!!!"

Chassey's eyes briefly bugged out at that one before she gritted her teeth in anger at his comments. But then she noticed Slick had fallen asleep again and was snoozing away in his chair…and that somehow, despite everything, she laughed briefly at his antics before giving him a shove as the playboy hit the floor. To her further amusement, he kept sleeping like nothing had happened. But then she had to return her attention to the mystery at hand.

"C'mon, make sense already!" she yelled at the computer as more screens kept flashing past in rapid fire. Then it stopped as one screen stood transfixed on the screen as Chassey, weary from the explosion of prior images, read it with growing amazement.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!" she shouted despite herself, a shout that woke everyone nearby, except for Slick who continued his deep sleep.

"What's going on?" asked Sheila yawning loudly as she stretched her arms and then briefly blushed as she realized she was in her pajamas and clutching her favorite teddy bear.

"It's all here, all of it!" said Chassey as she reviewed her notes and then held up a series of punch cards. "Every single aspect of OMAR's plans for the United States!"

Convoy couldn't make sense of the strange data, but he was a little taken aback by this random development in their favor. John for his part doubted every single word of it, that what they were seeing was a lie of some sort, but one he couldn't figure out how OMAR was pulling off.

"Then I'm going to need it all in written form, every detail of it," Convoy ordered, stretching hard. "But, maybe we should wait until morning. We all need some rest."

"Hey, let's get wild okay," said Sheila, also exhausted, as she yawned her way back to Convoy's cab and hopefully back to sleep. The others also stumbled back towards their vehicles, but before Convoy could return to his sleeping bag, he stood side by side with John Torque. What was on the scientist's mind was obvious to his trucker friend, even despite his bloodshot eyes.

"It's my mistake to make, old friend," he declared. There was no room for rebuttal, they both knew that and Torque offered none. But as Convoy moved to pass him…

"I only want one thing," John growled through gritted teeth. "You know what it is."

Convoy sighed for the umpteenth time and then chuckled briefly before patting his friend on the back and moving past him.

"If I'm wrong, send him to the grave for both of us," he answered. It wasn't the answer John really wanted, in fact, it had connotations he knew he wasn't going to like later on, but there was no time for arguments now. OMAR was out for blood, the Coyotes were ready to tear America to shreds, and right now they were the only thing standing between them and the collapse of what remained of the free world.

With that, each went back to sleep, and in that sleep, each made a solemn vow that they would see this through to the end.

All except one…

"Oh, man," said Slick groggily getting back to his feet and pinching the bridge of his nose and then looked back where he'd gotten up from. "How did I end up on the floor? …Or even over here for that matter?"

Looking around at the others for clarification, his eyes narrowed nonplussed as he noticed them all snoozing and thus waved them off as a lost cause.

"World's going to pieces and they're going to sleep through the apocalypse," he declared to no one in particular. "We're doomed for sure."

And then a bright glare filled his field of vision and the playboy sunk to the ground in pain as he covered his eyes from the first rays of morning sunlight.

"Ah, screw this!" he swore. "If I'm going out, it's with a frosty cold beer first!"

Stalking off to his vehicle, he started it and then backed out of the building and roared off into the city, looking for the nearest intact convenience store.

Elsewhere: Sid Burn threw on his sunglasses to avoid having the sun's glare further affect his raging hangover as he exited his vehicle and chucked away the empty vodka bottle he'd been drinking last night before he passed out. Greeting him was a chilly morning air and the rest of the Coyote vehicles scattered about. He nodded his head approvingly at the various battle scars that the vehicles had taken and still kept on moving.

Machinery he could understand, people he could not. And then he saw the cyborg and his good feelings about machines instantly mellowed.

She was still standing there, frozen from last night. How she had wound up this way, he had no clue. He vaguely recalled a swirl of colors and sounds during his late night drunkenness, but that was about it. But now that the cyborg was offline, it was the perfect opportunity to get a close look at her armband.

COUGH, COUGH, COUGH

Sid instantly jerked his head to the right as Beezwax emerged from the back of his camper as a mass of smoke emerged through the open doorway. He waved the smoke from his face and continued coughing as Sid returned his attention to the armband. He took out his Polaroid camera and snapped as many different angles of it as he could before putting the camera and photos away as Beezwax approached.

"Impressive," he said, his voice a little hoarse, as he looked at the mechanical circuitry. "I wonder if all the circuitry is contained in the armband or how much of it actually extends into the body itself."

"I'd like to know too," Sid confessed before sighing to himself. "But somehow I don't imagine OMAR would like us opening up their tin can."

"A shame," Beezwax admitted. "Because I don't see how what they did to her is even possible with today's technology."

"It's not," Sid confirmed. "In fact if I were to take a guess based on what I've just seen, I'd almost say…"

The lights on Houston's armband began glowing as the sunlight hit them and slowly the cyborg began returning to normal functions.

"Well, so much for that," said Sid disappointed as he turned to face the beekeeper as the Cyborg slowly stumbled off, regaining her bearings. "I suppose you have a plausible explanation for why smoke was coming out of your camper?"

"Of course," the beekeeper responded.

"Good," said Sid heading for his vehicle. "Just make sure whatever it was doesn't negatively impact the rest of the team in the future."

Beezwax watched him go with an arched eyebrow.

"Since when did you start caring about everyone else?" he wondered.

"I don't," responded Sid as he climbed into his vehicle. "But then again, I AM the team! And I want to get paid, so today is the beginning of the end for this country!"

He shut the door of his Manta and peeled off while honking his horn angrily at everyone in the campsite to wake them up before riding off into the distance, eager for blood.


	9. Wolf in the Fold

Interstate 15: The Coyotes raced down the road headed back towards the southwest. Nina Loco had long since vanished with a good portion of their loot from Site 4, but that bothered Sid very little. As far as he was concerned the less operatives hanging over his head the better. And so he drove in silence as the rest wondered in silence as to where it was that they were going, save for Houston who had OMAR's plans uploaded into her via the armband. After that, Sid was to officially take over in leading the attack over the American Southwest But what was currently weighing on his and the others minds was just when it was that they would run into those accursed Vigilantes again.

Henderson, Nevada: "According to this, their first target is the Hexaco Oil Distribution Center in Colorado," said Chassey as she chomped down a health bar as the Vigilantes moved out to their vehicles.

"And that's before they're to split up to attack various installations across the southwest?" Convoy confirmed from what she had said earlier. Chassey nodded in the affirmative.

"Provided Sid doesn't change his plans," she added as she got into her Rattler and turned the ignition as the engine roared to life. Convoy turned to John with a questioning look on his face.

"He may change little pieces here and there, but even Sid won't cross OMAR. At least, not until he knows there will be no repercussions," was the scientist's response. Convoy nodded, grateful for the insight, but as he was about to hop into his cab, a thought occurred to him.

"Anybody seen Slick?" he inquired of the others. Everyone looked around for the first time and noticed the lack of the Clydesdale 4x4. They each gave him a look of helplessness at his disappearance as Convoy sighed and grabbed the CB radio and adjusted the frequency it was transmitting at.

"Slick?" he asked into the receiver as a last resort to try and find the wayward Vigilante. "Slick, where are you?"

Gas Station: Slick was sitting on a metal lawn chair sipping on a warm soda that he had pulled out of an old and rusting vending machine. His efforts to locate alcohol had failed spectacularly as he ruminated on the fact that when things tended to go bad, liquor was the one thing people tended to turn to the most, making it all the more scarce.

And so he was left with his soda and his thoughts, both of which he wish he didn't want to have right now. And in a town that was virtually deserted, he wasn't afforded many distractions from either.

_Brrrrrrrr…_

A car engine suddenly caught his attention as the playboy turned and watched with interest as a station wagon appeared timidly from behind a building. It slowly eased out into the road and Slick slowly leaned forward and retrieved his shotgun before leaning back into his relaxed position as he laid the weapon on his lap.

The station wagon wasn't much to stare at, it had basic mounted weaponry consisting of mounted mosquito guns and a single bruiser cannon on the roof near the front. It was pitiful compared to the heavy weaponry on Slick's vehicle, but would make any marauders on foot think twice about messing with them.

But to Slick's surprise, the road the vehicle was on that was now bringing it even past him, pretty much only led to the highway. And it was near suicide travelling along on the open road, let alone with such light armament.

"_But I guess times are so desperate now…_," thought the playboy soberly. The vehicle eased alongside the abandoned gas station and Slick on his chair with his soda. He looked passively at the vehicle as its bruiser cannon trained itself on him, but made no aggressive moves. The cannon was only doing was it was programmed to, and the Clydesdale's weapons naturally trained themselves on the station wagon. It was a brief standoff between the two vehicles and for a moment, Slick wasn't sure which way it was going to go.

But just as quickly as it started, it ended, as the vehicle continued on its path away from him. Slick watched them go, and offered them a silent prayer of safe travels. He didn't know who was in the vehicle, the windows were tinted too darkly to know for sure, but they had shown him some rare human decency in leaving him alone and so he was inclined to do the same for them.

"Slick?" said a familiar voice over the radio, snapping him out of his reverie. "Slick, where are you?"

That produced a chuckle from the playboy as he grabbed his rifle and glass bottle and walked around to the driver's side of the vehicle and reached in to grab his CB.

"Yeah, what's going on, Convoy?" he asked into it. The resulting silence nearly caused him to fall over in laughter because they clearly hadn't been expecting him to answer back. But that was fine by him, he was going to destroy all expectations from here on out.

"Where are you?" came the ultimate response. Slick shrugged, though the gesture was futile since they couldn't see it.

"I'm at the entrance to the interstate wondering where you are," he shot back before yawning loudly. "We should probably get going soon because every second we waste, they're getting further away."

"Yeah we know," came the slightly annoyed response. "We're on our way, but until we catch up, scout ahead down I-515 while we go down I-215 to I-15 and we'll meet up where I-15 meets I-515 and head on north out of here."

"Fair enough," Slick agreed. "But are you just going to leave me to fend for myself down that dangerous stretch of road. I thought we were a-."

HONK! HONK! HONK!

Slick jerked his head back down the road as Sheila's Strider and John Torque's Jefferson raced past headed for the interstate.

"Never mind," he said, partly feeling humiliated at not having anticipated that move on the trucker's part. "Will do."

He grabbed his cowboy hat off the radio antenna and popped in a stick of gum and took off after them in his 4x4.

Time Passed…

Colorado, 7:15 am: The Vigilantes were crouched around a campfire as a light snow dusted the area. Slick was pacing back and forth trying to keep himself warm in his designer clothes as he paced back and forth muttering about freezing his ass off.

"I-I th-thought y-you s-said, h-he'd be h-hitting sp-spot a-all over the southwest!" he yelled loudly as his breath was seen escaping his mouth in the cold.

"He will after he knocks off this oil depot," Convoy responded for the thousandth time. "And if we don't stop him and that place goes up then you won't have to worry about feeling cold ever again."

Slick rolled his eyes at that, but didn't dignify it with a response. He also wouldn't stoop so low and grab the wool coat he had in his vehicle either.

"So then what exactly is our objective?" asked Chassey as she pulled her aviator's jacket tighter. "We have to expect some collateral damage with all the firepower we're bringing in there."

"She's right," John agreed as he stewed a pot of beans that was boiling in a kettle over the fire. "We have to figure out what we can and can't afford to lose."

"Dave?" asked Convoy of the hippie, who was sitting in the back of his van with the rear doors open and was perusing his mess of scientific equipment. He had acquired a new sensor dish and scanning equipment from the Site 4 warehouse and some goodies that he said had allowed him to upgrade his saucers, but they had yet to see any of it in action until now.

"Sensors indicate fifteen gas storage tanks to the northeast and thirty or so oil derricks to the southwest," he responded as he checked his readings. "Assorted buildings, pipelines and more litter the area as well."

"Civilians?" asked John. Dave shrugged noncommittally.

"Unknown," he responded. "The same for any existing defenses."

Those thoughts weighed heavily on the others with the exception of Slick who was too cold to care about much else at the moment.

"I'd have thought the oil fields would have the most protection," Sheila figured. Chassey nodded her head in agreement.

"They do on the east coast," she revealed. "Here, it's a little more chaotic but because of the environment there're fewer people out and about to be concerned about causing trouble."

"And yet somehow it's more dangerous as well," John reminded her. "Don't forget that the roads here are death traps. Something I don't need to remind any of us after what we just went through."

Heads nodded glumly at that. The drive from Nevada to Colorado had been anything but uneventful and they saw some things that they would never speak of again.

"So when do you think they'll hit this place?" asked Slick now sitting in his 4x4 with a warm blanket wrapped around him.

"Later," Convoy figured. "After the snow has melted because it's too cold to do much now."

"Good," said Slick pleased. "I got dibs on California when they split up."

Convoy grinned hard at that. "Actually, I was thinking of sending you to Utah when they hit that winter resort since your 4x4 would have the best traction there."

Slick's inability to form a coherent response made the trucker laugh heartily as he scooped some of the beans into his bowl and began chowing down as the rest did the same. All with the exception of Slick whose temporary rage at that comment was starting to warm him up much faster than the blanket ever could.

Elsewhere: The Coyotes were spread out across a small tract of land overlooking the fuel depot as Loki looked through his binoculars at the building and made various notes on what he saw. He then finished his observations and then walked over to Sid Burn and handed him a picture perfect aerial view of the facility that was in perfect proportion and with exact distances as well.

"Nice work," said Sid extremely impressed. He glanced over the drawings several times and then produced some drafting paper that he placed over the image and began drawing various lines on it.

"What're you doing, boss?" asked Molo eating a chocolate protein bar.

"Developing battle plans," was the response as Sid erased a line with his pencil and added a different one in.

"Why?" asked Molo confused. "We just go in all guns blazing and blow everything to smithereens!"

"Because it's a good way to get your self killed, kid," came Beezwax's irate response. He was polishing what was apparently a beehive, something which bewildered Sid, but what he said was absolutely true.

"If you go into a situation like we're about to face with thousands of gallons of gasoline, oil, and who knows what else and just start shooting, you're going to be dead before you knew what happened," he forcefully pointed out. "Now, I don't care if you get your own ass blown to pieces, but I'm set on living to fight another day. So if you have a death wish, do it on your own damn time!"

Molo gave them a malevolent glare at that before he went back to eating his candy bar. The kid had gone from a sniveling coward to a schoolyard bully overnight and Beezwax wondered if Houston's little display the night before had caused him to snap.

"Alright, here's the plan," said Sid cutting into the beekeeper's thoughts as he ordered everyone to surround him. The game was about to begin.

Hexagon Oil Distribution Facility: A pair of guards was patrolling the front gate entrance to the oil distribution facility when the roar of an engine was heard coming up the dirt road. The guards carefully un-holstered their weapons and nervously aimed them out at the darkened night time, both feverishly wishing that they were at their sister facility in Antelope Ridge, New Mexico.

But they weren't and so both continued nervously aiming their weapons into the dark as a pair of headlights could be seen approaching from the distance. Behind the lights, more could be seen accompanying it from behind as a convoy of vehicles proceeded towards them until finally, a yellow and black Manta came to a halt near the gate. The two guards made waving motions as if to try and warn the vehicle to turn around and go back the way it came, but it stood there unmoving, the only sound in the silence of the night being its engine.

"What should we do?" asked one guard to the next. The other gulped nervously before poking his elbow against the other's rifle.

"Give them a couple of warning shots," he advised. Hopefully this group had made a wrong turn, but if they hadn't…

BOOM! BOOM!

The door to the Manta opened and Sid Burn stepped out and walked over to the two guards who were now lying on the ground with smoking holes in their chests and casually kneeled down and retrieved their shotguns before walking over to the gate and unlocked it and swung it open and bowed down as he swept his hand towards it. The Coyotes silently ventured inside as the Vigilantes started up their engines in direct response and raced down the mountainside to confront them.

Sky Above: Another SR-71 raced overhead in silence as it took photos of the oil field below. It arced a few times through the night air before fuel reserves forced it to head for home. Below, fires now raged amongst the oil wells and the only other illumination came from mosquito shells and other heavy armament firing into the night sky.

Some time later, OMAR Headquarters: The heads of OMAR sat in silence in their darkened chamber as the images of the battle were displayed on the large monitor above Number One's head.

"We have a mole," Three concluded as the images shut off and the Council turned their attention to each other and each nodded in stony silence.

"But whom would dare oppose us?" asked Two. "No government still functioning would dare risk our wrath. Bar one, but they are currently being dealt with."

"Yes and our sources indicate that the United State's Central Intelligence Agency is in no position to be sending agents overseas," Five responded, looking at some notes before them. Silence promptly descended on the OMAR executives as each contemplated this turn of events.

"Auntie," came Three's voice and One's head immediately snapped up at that.

"Don't be ridiculous," was One's response. Three refused to back down.

"She has the motive and the knowledge," came the response. "She is not above suspicion."

"Perhaps, but she has aspirations to one day control OMAR and sabotaging our efforts at this point in time would not help her accomplish that goal," Six pointed out. "But I agree, she must be watched closely."

One scowled at that, though the gesture was largely useless as no executive could see the others faces. But now was not the time to be wondering about the desires of an OMAR subsidiary agent, what they needed to figure out who was betraying them.

"I suggest we bring Auntie more into the fold as far as this mission is concerned," Twelve decided. "That way, if she is the spy she'll either be uncovered or cease her operations and if she is not the spy, then she may prove useful in finding out who is."

"I agree," said One, pleased that that conversation was over with. "But in the meantime, we must remain vigilant towards outside threats that would ruin our organization."

And then the lights above the darkened images of the OMAR Executives each winked out one by one until all that was left was Number One starting at a darkened room. At first the Executive breathed a sigh of relief…and then an evil grin spread across their features before their light went out as well.

Somewhere in Colorado: At another abandoned motel that was on one of the many highways crossing the state, Sid Burn was angrily trashing the lobby as the others partly watched while also performing other tasks. Loki was trying to repair the damage that had been wrought on their vehicles with what little supplies he had, Boogie was eagerly hovering over Beezwax as he was working on, of all things, a disco ball. Houston was again standing passively as she surveyed their locale with thoughts only she knew and Molo for his part was in the arcade playing whatever games that Sid hadn't already destroyed.

Right now he was fortunately working his frustrations out on the cigarette machine while also snatching the occasional pack that fell out and smoking one cigarette after the next while using swear words that only those from the United Kingdom would fully understand, laced with the occasional word that Molo understood. Sid was very mad, there was no question about that and getting drunker by the minute but as long as he didn't touch the quarters, it gave Molo more chances to play.

"Having fun, soldier?" said a new voice interrupting his thoughts. Everyone in the room whirled towards the new arrival as Sid yanked out his shotgun and drunkenly pointed it at the person.

"Shit, Auntie, not you again!" he groaned as he rubbed his drunk and bleary eyes with his free hand as the rifle shook in his other hand. The ever enigmatic Auntie Entity looked at the rifle and then up at Sid with a measure of disinterest before stepping past his Manta that was in the middle of the lobby after having crashed right through the front doors of the place when they first arrived.

"Can we talk or are you too much wrapped up with yourself that you're busy?" she asked curtly. Boogie briefly snickered at that before Sid shot him a glare that caused him to begin to boogie like he'd never boogied before despite there being no dance floor.

"Fine," he agreed after a few moments thinking about it. He took a long swig from his vodka and wiped his mouth with his sleeve and wavered back and forth as he followed the woman into the dining area. Auntie meticulously pulled out her chair and calmly sat in it and then pulled it up to the table as Sid unceremoniously dropped his shotgun onto it with a loud noise and then flopped into his chair and lazily reclined on it.

"So what brings you back to us, Auntie? Can't keep your hands off me, I take it?" he said, laughing hysterically to himself. Auntie made no move to respond to that comment, but then briefly jumped as Sid slammed his hands on the table causing it to shake.

"WE WERE SET UP!"

"I'd have thought that would've been obvious," said Auntie unapologetically as she crossed her arms and gave him a look of disappointment at his outburst. Sid looked at her with furious bloodshot eyes that would cause most individuals to quiver in fear, but Auntie again showed no emotion to them.

"You knew?" he accused in a very soft but malicious voice. Auntie nonchalantly produced a nail file and began filing her nails to alleviate her boredom with Sid's behavior.

"I had a suspicion that something was wrong when the FBI figured out you were even coming here and also that they knew your point of insertion. That they've followed you all this way, well if you didn't figure it out by now, then you're more of an idiot than I already gave you credit for," she responded harshly. Sid looked at her for several moments before the corners of his mouth began to pull upwards and he instantly broke into laughter.

"Oh Auntie, you always did know how to make me laugh," he revealed, wiping a tear from his eyes.

"That's what you get for being such an ass," Auntie commented with a mild grin on her face. Sid chuckled again and held up his bottle of vodka and tipped it towards her, but she declined by shaking her head as the mercenary took another swig from it.

"So what now?" he asked next. "Presumably OMAR's plans have been compromised and they know our entire strategy to wreaking havoc across the southwest."

"Yes, but that doesn't change things," responded Auntie as she stopped filing and put her file away. "OMAR has too much riding on this mission to see it fall apart now. You were paid to do a job and this new development doesn't change that."

"It does to me," Sid responded as he sat straight up and placed his hands on the table, the left hand still clutching the bottle and it began pouring out onto the table. "It means I get more pay."

"No,"

"Oh, please, you know as well I do that I deserve to be paid more for this," he pointed out, once more leaning back in his chair.

"What you _deserve_ doesn't matter, you were contracted by OMAR to provide services for a fee and that fee is what you're getting," Auntie responded in kind. "If you want to get paid, do a better job and eliminate anything that gets in your way. It's what you've always done before and it will work again. So see that it does and let me handle the search for the traitor because I'm certain it's not the cigarette machine."

With that she got up and headed for the door as Sid watched her go.

"You know, Auntie, all of this stuff about playing second fiddle to a major corporation doesn't sit right," he figured aloud. "That's just not you, so I have to ask again, why aren't you running OMAR?"

She paused briefly and looked back at him from the corner of her eye.

"Who says I'm not?" she asked, repeating what she'd said the last time he'd asked. With that she chuckled to herself and gave him a brief wave goodbye and was gone. Sid briefly pondered the enigmatic woman before shrugging it off as he quickly finished off his bottle and chucked it to the side and grabbed his shotgun and headed out back into the lobby. There his team looked at him expectantly from their work as Sid gave them his trademark half-grin.

"Let's go," he ordered as he headed for his car and the others did the same. And soon six Coyote vehicles were headed down the road in a diamond formation with Sid in the lead and Molo at the rear.

But as the cars raced down the road, Molo's bus suddenly swerved back and forth across his lane nearly slamming into Boogie.

"Hey man, now's not the time to be bumpin' and jivin'," came the annoyed response as Molo righted the bus once more.

"Sorry," said the teenager, a little flustered despite himself. "It's just that I thought I saw…oh, nevermind."

"What, kid?" asked Beezwax a little curious now. "What do you think you saw?"

"It's just that…when we were just driving now, I was looking at the abandoned vehicles on the sides of the road and thinking if we should raid them for parts, when I noticed a white stretch limo in perfect condition and in front of it was a car that almost looked like Houston's Palamino and in front of that was a weird motorcycle like contraption," began Molo.

"Well, pristine condition vehicles are somewhat of a rarity these days," Beezwax acknowledged.

"Yeah…but the Palamino look alike didn't have any wheels and I'd swear it was hovering above the ground!" shouted Molo exasperated. "And when I did my double take and looked back through my rearview mirror, they were gone...like they'd vanished into thin air!"

Silence descended on the team after hearing that as each contemplated their own interpretation of Molo and what he claimed he had just seen. For Loki and Beezwax each put serious thought into what the kid had just reported to them. Something…familiar.

"Can the chatter," said Sid putting an end to that conversation. "The only thing that matters now is getting this job done and getting paid. So quit stalling and roll out!"

The heavily drunk Sid Burn then slammed on his accelerator and the car rocketed forward as the others struggled to keep up while racing down the cracked highway with the rising sun at their backs.

…

In the skies above, unseen to anyone who wasn't looking for it, three darkened objects came straight out of the rising sun and rocketed off into the opposite horizon.


	10. Target: OMAR

Denver, Colorado: The city of Denver was covered with a light dusting of snow as the Vigilantes emerged from a café in the downtown district, all carrying piping hot cups of coffee. For all of the chaos engulfing the rest of the country, Denver seemed to be the one bastion of hope that civilization could endure hardship as the city was still relatively intact, although largely abandoned. Colorado was just too cold for anyone to try much of anything and as a result the remaining military presence chose the city to hold the line against the outside elements that were tearing the country apart.

And so they'd gotten a warm meal, had a comforting night's sleep at a local hotel, and stocked up on weapons, fuel, and supplies, while also bartering for other more frivolous things. Like the coffee they now were happily carrying out to their vehicles. Slick had basically pawned off all of his designer clothes to some of the local merchants along with selling off signed photos to those who knew who he was. His sudden attempts to be a team player and not a loner had surprised them all, but while John chalked it up to him trying to save his own ass, Sheila seemed to think he was being genuine…or as genuine as Slick could possibly be, said Chassey.

But they all had freshly brewed coffee right now thanks to the playboy and that was good enough for the time being.

"So where do we go from here?" asked Sheila, talking a sip of her drink. Convoy shared a look with Chassey before returning his attention to the group.

"Well the intelligence we received so far has been accurate so I'm going to assume the rest of it is too. In that case, we'll head towards the four points and then we'll break up into teams of two as the Coyotes are going to do and then take it to them," announced the leader of his plan. He then looked at each of the members of the team to gauge their responses and help him decide how to better break up the team.

Chassey had a look of anxiousness to get on with the mission and Sheila too looked optimistic that they had a chance to actually succeed in stopping the Coyotes. Dave had a distant look on his face and a wish to once more head out on the road looking for visitors from the sky…and Convoy knew him well enough to know that he wanted to return to Site 4 and the secrets it contained. John was cradling his rifle in his hand and had it clutched close to his chest with a determined look on his face, he wanted Sid Burn in his crosshairs and soon. And Slick was unreadable as always as he kicked snow off of the bottom of his 4x4. But an instant later his expression turned to confusion when he saw the trucker watching him.

"So what are we waiting for?" he asked curious. "Because I'm willing to bet that they're on the move right now and aren't waiting for us to make an appearance before they attack."

"I agree," said John as he cocked his rifle for emphasis. And with that, the two of them got in their vehicles and tore off down the road headed for the freeway.

"C'mon, Dave, last one there's a rotten egg!" said Sheila in a brief flash of youthfulness as she ran for her vehicle and the hippie ran for his and soon they two were burning rubber. Convoy watched them go with a brief shake of his head before he turned to Chassey who had a bemused look on her face.

"So who're you planning on pairing up?" she asked. Convoy chuckled at that.

"Isn't it obvious?" he responded before heading to his truck. Chassey headed for her car when a thought occurred to her.

"Just promise me one thing," she called out to the trucker as he stopped and looked at her. "That we're the ones going to Cali."

Laughter was the only response the leader could give to her as he nodded his head and got in his Moth Truck before heading down the road after his team as Chassey's Rattler took up a forward position.

Mexico City, Mexico: The OMAR facility located in the heart of the city was one of the most heavily guarded facilities in the entire American supercontinent. The workers there knew that and it and would also die to defend their one island of peace in a world of chaos.

And so, when the call came in of three unidentified vehicles having appeared out of nowhere were now rapidly approaching the compound, the workers thought little of it. The security guards took their positions while the remaining workers had their coffee and breakfast while casually discussing reports coming in from American regarding Sid Burn's efforts to destroy their natural resources. They also pondered the reports coming in from Auntie about a potential traitor in their midst and completely ignored the goings on outside. Nothing could get inside those walls. Nothing.

_!_

It was those same workers who were then thrown off of their feet as the side wall of the compound exploded inward raining debris and bodies all over the inner courtyard. The workers inside the building immediately crowded the windows to look down at this new disturbance in hushed silence as the roar of engines permeated the air. And then from the smoking debris came three vehicles that skidded to a halt inside the courtyard and allowed the bewildered workers to get a good view of their adversaries.

A strange motorcycle-like contraption, consisting of a low horizontal blade attached to a center fuselage that rose above a single rear wheel was the first to become visible as behind it sat a yellow car that looked very similar to the car they had outfitted Houston with before she left, one major difference being a pulsating red bulbous device on its hood that was slowly pouring smoke out of the sides as if it were cooling down. All eyes promptly turned to the third arrival and looked at the vehicle with disbelief as it was a white stretch limousine bristling with weaponry and what looked like a rear spoiler formed from electric currents shooting between two poles. Limos were few and far between and when one was seen, it was usually surrounded by heavily armored escort vehicles. The idea that one had come in to a place like this with only two vehicles as backup was simply preposterous to the OMAR workers. To say nothing that any of the three vehicles had survived their approach, much less entering into the facility relatively unscratched.

Yet there they were displayed in all their pristine glory and it seemed like a dream that the vehicles were there at all. But then the sounds of heavy weaponry opening fire on the vehicles drowned out everything else as more explosions tore though the courtyard along with several land mines that exploded as well before soldiers ran in and doused the area with fire from their flamethrowers. The workers who had their windows open quickly shut them as they began coughing on the fumes from the outside. But still they watched needing to see what had happened to the intruders.

_Crackle…Crackle…Crackle_

Electricity suddenly began arcing through the smoke and debris in various directions before the currents began coalescing together and arcing out towards the OMAR building, ripping off large chunks of the granite walls and blowing out windows as the OMAR employees ran for their lives. But for the brave security workers still keeping guard, their thoughts turned to abject horror as the smoke finally cleared revealing all three vehicles were completely unscratched.

And so they surrounded the vehicles and cocked their automatic weaponry and shakily pointed them at the vehicles and the unseen occupants.

"By order of the Oil Monopoly Alliance Regime, you are ordered to exit your vehicles and surrender yourself to our custody," the leader said bravely into his bullhorn. His courage in some ways helped boost the others spirits as well as they awaited the response from the three intruders. Though they secretly noted that he left out the 'or be destroyed' part of his speech.

_Click…_

The sound of a door handle being opened caused the workers to immediately center their weapons on the vehicles before centering on the Palamino type vehicle as the door slowly swung open and a cowboy hat could be seen just above the top of the door.

"Now put your hands on top of your head and…," began the leader until the figure stood straight up and cleared the doorway to stare at the troops. When that happened, all color drained from the face of the leader as his arm fell limp to his side, still clutching the bullhorn.

"B-b-b," said the leader in utter shock. If he was ever to regain his senses, it would never be known as the figure lifted up its arms and bullets flew out at the soldiers, knocking them down one by one. But more so than that, it was also taking shots from the soldiers and yet was still going on completely unabated. As this was going on, the cylindrical pod on the motorcycle contraption slowly hissed open and a woman in a blue jumpsuit emerged with similarly glowing blue eyes and armed with a katana at the ready, rushed the soldiers reloading their weaponry and immediately sliced down any in range.

Within moments, the courtyard had been cleared of OMAR combatants and the individual in the cowboy hat did a brief scan of the area before turning towards the limousine expectantly. A few moments passed as a wind briefly blew through the area scattering some various rocks before another door lock clicking open was heard and the driver's door on the limousine slowly swung outwards. A pair of leather shoes crunched the gravel below his feet as a tall man dressed in trousers, a white dress shirt and an accompanying vest walked calmly across the courtyard towards the two companions. The individual was an older man with streaks of grey in his hair and came with a monocle, a pocket watch with chain, and a cane with a diamond atop it, and he seemed like he was from another place and time in stark contrast to the rest of the world.

But if his appearance were out of the norm, it seemed to bother the man very little as he reached his companions and calmly observed the carnage around him before looking at the OMAR facility and pointing his cane towards it as they then headed towards it and immediately strode inside the darkened building unopposed.

Later, Four Corners: At the border of Utah, Colorado, Arizona, and New Mexico sat the Vigilantes and their vehicles basking in the hot desert sun.

"First it's too cold, now it's too damn hot!" shouted Slick at the horizon as he paced around the weathered monument. "It's not fair!"

Chassey and Sheila watched him bemused while perched on the hood and roof of the Rattler respectively.

"Is he drunk?" Sheila asked as the playboy seemingly slipped on something and crashed to the ground in a heap of sand and dust.

"No," laughed Chassey at his antics. "But I think he wishes he was."

Slick got up and dusted off his only pair of designer jeans that he hadn't given away and continued his 'drunken' trek. Sheila watched him go for a few moments before sighing to herself.

"Chassey?" she asked, without turning around to see the woman behind her who was know lying on the roof with her arms outstretched and sunglasses now drooped over her face.

"Mmm?" the FBI agent responded, now nearly half-asleep. Sheila thought about her next question a couple more moments before asking it.

"When this is all over, what do you think you're going to do then?" the teenager asked. Chassey's eyes opened slightly at that question.

"Beats me," she offered noncommittally. "I doubt I'm going back to the Bureau, though."

"Why not?" asked Sheila curious as she leaned back on the windshield of the car and propping her head in her hands.

"Because I joined to make a difference and lately that's becoming more and more impossible," Chassey said truthfully. "I can't go back to that after this, I just can't. So maybe I'll head for the West Coast like I always wanted to do when I was younger."

Sheila didn't know how to respond to that as she looked off to the side to see her uncle, John, and Dave heatedly discussing various things from the back of Dave's van.

"I think I might try and join the Bureau," she reluctantly revealed. It was the first time she'd said it in the open without joking about it, but she felt it needed to be said.

"You should," came Chassey's barely awake response. "Once you finish school. Then you could make the difference I…"

That ended Chassey's part of the conversation as the FBI Agent was now snoozing away as Sheila smirked at that before also settling back and soon she was fast asleep as well.

At Dave's van, Convoy glanced briefly at the two women before looking over at Slick who was now dragging what looked like a still for making bootleg beer out of the back of his 4x4. It landed on the ground with a heavy thud as the young man then disappeared into the back of his vehicle before dragging out various bags and began pouring them whole into it. The sight was an amusing one to say the least and it gave Convoy a little bit of peace for what he had to say to John who was looking at him expectantly.

"John, no, I'm sorry," said the trucker apologetically. The scientist narrowed his eyes at his friend.

"You know damn well that-," he began when Convoy cut him off by raising his hand.

"And that's exactly why I can't send you after him," Convoy insisted. "You know as well as I do how revenge leads to ruin. You saved me from it once before and now I can finally return the favor."

That comment earned silence from the scientist as he knew very well what Convoy was referring to and what had happened as a result.

"Besides, you're my second in command and my friend and I know that if anything happens, that you'll get the job done," said the trucker encouragingly. John sighed at that before looking at Convoy with grim determination.

"I want him dead," was all he said before turning and walking away.

"We both do my friend, we both do," said Convoy softly before turning his attention to Dave who was tinkering with his flying saucers.

"So what're you working on?" he asked curious. "I thought you were done with building those things."

"So did I," the hippie confessed. "But, I found some stuff at Site 4 that I think will allow me to increase their effectiveness a thousand-fold."

Convoy whistled at that figure. "That…alien…tech is something else."

When Dave heard that statement, he immediately placed his tools down and clasped his hands in front of his face. Convoy had known the man long enough to know that this meant Dave was having an internal debate about something and the trucker knew well enough to let him be. Dave would tell him if necessary and that was good enough. He turned away and was about to inform the others of his plans when Dave's hand rested on his shoulder to stop him. The trucker stopped and waited a couple moments for the hippie to speak as the younger man let out a long breath.

"I'm….not entirely convinced this technology _is_ alien," he finally revealed. The trucker had to stop and think about that, the evolution of technology was never his strongpoint.

"Well then what is it?" he asked the next logical question. Dave looked at him through weary eyes, having obviously being losing sleep over it.

"That's just it, I don't know what it is," he said exasperated as he threw up his hands in disgust for added emphasis. "It's all radically advanced and well beyond anything a black ops project could possibly create, but it's just not alien, the technology just makes too much sense to me in how it's constructed!"

All of that went over the trucker's head, but that was nothing new coming from Dave.

"But I'm sure you have theories," he said, going with another patented response to Dave's outbursts. The hippie nodded as he put his tools away and stored his saucers on their place on his shelf.

"Yes, I do have a couple I'm currently testing," he agreed, calming down. "I'll work on them as I have time and let you know what I come up with."

Convoy nodded his head approvingly at that as he gave the man a big smile.

"Good," he said as he patted his friend's hand. "Until then, make the technology work for you now. Sheila always says that where you came from doesn't matter. All that matters is what you do right here, right now."

Dave nodded with a cocky grin and gave him a pair of thumbs up as he hopped out of his van, closing the doors behind him, and joined the trucker as they advanced towards the rest of the vehicles. Sheila and Chassey were slowly waking up from their catnap, while John was nearby performing some maintenance on his BassQuake machine. As for Slick…Slick was currently puking his guts out behind his 4x4 as a half-empty and very disgusting looking mug of moonshine sat on top of his still. Evidently his brewing left something to be desired.

They shouldn't have stood a chance against the enemy, but they were all still alive and well, and with a little bit of luck, they would succeed where all others might have failed.

Mexico City: The three individuals who had blasted their way into the facility now continued their trek further into the building. The woman with the katana and the other individual with the cowboy hat were further ahead as they unflinchingly continued mowing down any resistance that came their way as the older man behind them, evidently their leader, walked calmly past the bodies now lining the hallways without so much as a second glance.

Eventually they reached a large metal door with large hinges and an electronic lock reminiscent of a bank vault. The two individuals who had reached the door first looked back at their leader expectantly, but the older man uttered no words, he instead positioned his cane in front of himself with both hands and looked at the door expectantly. With that look, the woman immediately speared the keypad with her blood stained katana and took it back out as it threw sparks while the other individual walked up to the giant door, placed two hands on it, and then ripped it right off of it's foundation and tossed it to the side where it made a loud metal thud.

As the dust settled, it revealed a slightly darkened room full of computer databanks and terminals with blinking lights appearing in rapid succession. This room also contained several OMAR scientists kneeling behind those consoles in terror, but more importantly, it also featured a darkened individual sitting on a chair on a rising platform at the front of the room.

"Greetings," said Number Three of the OMAR Executives. "I've been expecting you, so please come in."

But to Three's surprise, the older man strode confidently past his two associates and into the room and came to a halt just inside of it as his companions stood outside.

"Brave of you, but foolish!" said Three as his darkened expression took one of malevolence to the new arrival. Three pressed a button and a metal door emerged from the top of the doorway and clanged shut, trapping the older man from his companions.

"Now we can talk alone amongst ourselves," said Three with an air of superiority, both by trapping this new arrival and his lack of concern for the scientists in the room. The older man took a brief glance at the door behind him before once again positioning his cane in front of him and laid both hands on it, waiting. To the scientists it looked like a high noon standoff from an old western that was literally between an unstoppable force and an immovable object.

"Since I'm betting you're a man of few words, I'm more than willing to speak for both of us," continued Three as he pressed some buttons on his armrest. "But since I know damn well why you're here and what you're here for, I have to be completely honest and tell you that I intend to deny you both."

A countdown appeared on the main screen, it was short, but not short enough that a conversation couldn't take place. The older man just took a disinterested glance at the countdown before returning his attention to the executive.

"I always told those other fools on the OMAR board that your arrival was inevitable," said Three disgusted with them. "That the day we discovered the advanced technologies and how they came to be here meant that more incursions were possible. They laughed that idea off and said that even if some do-gooder were to show up, that whatever information and technology they would bring, we would be able to stop them. But they never could have imagined someone like you showing up and to be quite frank, the idea of you being here right now has given me sleepless nights for some time now. But seeing you here is in some ways a relief because the nightmares are over and I WON'T LET YOU SUCCEED!"

Three spat the last part out in uncharacteristic anger before wiping his mouth with a piece of cloth and calming down. He then looked at the arrival expectantly as the timer reached one minute.

"Do you have anything to say before you die?" he asked curious. "Speak up now because I'm very interested in hearing what you have to say before this place explodes."

The other man said nothing as instead he just gave a stare of pure malevolence that even caused Number Three to be taken back by it. The older man then lifted up his cane to chest level and then plunged it into the hard tile below. As soon as it made a clang on the ground, all power in the room died.

"What the-?" began Three looking around abruptly in confusion as the room became pitch black. The shadow of the older man used his cane to knock on the door and then stepped to the side as a heavy punch impacted with it and the door fell over. The older man's companions stepped in the room and looked around with their glowing eyes all the more stark in the darkness. The tip of the man's cane began to glow and throw off electrical sparks from its crystal as he pointed the top of it to the cowering scientists and then swung the cane to point out the door where some sunlight illuminated the corridor. The scientists hurriedly bolted out the door and soon were gone from sight leaving the three strangers and Number Three alone in the dark.

"So this is it then?" asked Three, unseen tears streaming down his face. "Was this how I was always supposed to-?"

The older man twirled his cane around with his right hand as the crystal on top began glowing brighter and brighter until the old man thrust the cane's head towards Number Three and an electrical blast erupted from the cane and straight into Number Three who convulsed in spasms as electricity flowed through his body and then stopped as Three slumped down in his chair.

The older man lowered his cane and looked at Number Three's corpse in silence as his companions respectfully filed out of the room. The older man then took one last look around the room as his eyes betrayed a sense of nostalgia before he too left the room. He joined his companions and they filed out of the building and to their vehicles outside and retreated back the way they had come in silence leaving the chaos and destruction they had wrought far behind them.

Four Corners: "Are you okay, Slick?" asked Sheila concerned as the playboy leaned against his still while looking miserable.

"I'll be fine," he said, his voice a little hoarse before coughing a couple times. "It's good stuff, you should try some."

Sheila looked at the strange brew in his cup with some disgust before shaking her head.

"Can't, I'm underage," she said with a grin. Slick groaned at that as Sheila laughed.

"If you two are done, I'm going to announce the teams," Convoy said, interrupting their conversation. Slick got up and shakily walked over to the trucker and belched loudly before covering his mouth and yawning.

"Let me guess, you and Chassey are together to take on Sid Burn and Houston, Dave and Sheila are teamed up to take on Loki and Molo, and John and I are taking on Beezwax and Boogie," Slick stated with a knowing grin on his face. Convoy looked at him surprised.

"How did you know that?" he wanted to know. He'd never written the teams down for anyone else to know.

"It's so simple!" said Slick as if it was obvious. "I'M FROM THE FUTURE! WOOOO!"

With that outburst, the young man thrust out his arms and then collapsed on the ground. The group watched him for a few moments in silence before looking at each other uncertain.

"Get up, Clyde, you may be sick, but there was no alcohol in that brew you made," said John pointedly. A sigh erupted from the ground as Slick slowly got up to everyone's surprise but John's.

"You're no fun, Torque," he shot back as he dusted himself off and coughed a couple more times. The others continued to look at him speechless before Convoy began speaking again to get his mind off of that oddball and his antics.

"Chassey and I will head out to California and I want Sheila and Dave to focus on the targets in New Mexico and Arizona while John and Slick worry about Utah and Colorado," he finished up on his strategy. "So that this may be the last time we'll see each other for some time. Just remember that there ain't nothin' on 'em that can stop a convoy."

The implications of what that meant, he left unsaid, as he looked at Sheila pointedly before heading for his truck.

"Give 'em hell, kid," said John to Sheila as he briefly ruffled her hair. "You take care of yourself too, Dave."

Dave nodded with his typical grin as Sheila hugged John.

"I will Uncle, I will," she promised. John gave her a brief grin before heading for his Jefferson and passing by Slick and Chassey. The playboy was pouring on all of his fake charm as Chassey looked at him with a mixture of amusement and chagrin.

"I hope we meet again ma chere," he said as he held her hand in a gentlemanly sort of way. Chassey groaned at that as she also laughed at his antics.

"Aren't you from the future, shouldn't you already know?" she asked dryly. Slick looked at her with a devilish grin.

"Oh, I know our future and it's one to be remembered for all time," he promised. Chassey rolled her eyes at that as Slick laughed.

"Alright, so I really don't know the future. Just…take of yourself also," he said. Chassey nodded her head solemnly before giving him a smile and then lightly punching him in the shoulder.

"I will," she swore as she opened her door and sat in her vehicle. "Not get going, time's a wasting."

Slick nodded before crouching down and looking through the open window. "Do I get a kiss goodbye?"

"No chance!" shot back the FBI agent. "But…I'll think about it if you come back from this assignment."

Slick nodded his head and stood back up. "Good enough for me, beautiful. Now let's ride the trails! Yee-haw, here I come ya hear!"

Slick made a motion to ride his invisible horse and then galloped off towards his 4x4. Chassey watched him go before her car made a brief growl and she patted the dashboard affectionately.

"Let's get on with the mission, hm?" she asked of her Rattler as it seemingly roared in agreement. The FBI Agent slammed on the accelerator as her car leapt forward and took off to escort Convoy's Moth Truck as it too came to life and smoke belched out of its dual exhaust system. The two vehicles raced past Slick who had come to a halt near his Clydesale 4x4 and began loading his still into the back of it.

"You think we stand a chance?" he asked of John Torque who was inspecting the engine on his Jefferson.

"I don't know," John confessed as he slammed the hood shut. "But I just say what I always say in these situations. You ready to roll the dice, bro?"

Slick finished putting his still away and pulled out his cowboy hat and put it on.

"Let's kick some," he declared. John nodded with a mildly evil grin and then both were headed down the road in their vehicles. All that was left was Sheila and Dave.

"Sensors indicate no intelligent life," said Dave in his usual lingo looking around at the emptiness before chuckling to himself. Sheila nodded as she headed for Strider.

"Hey, let's get wild okay?" she responded with her usual catchphrase. Then the two of them moved out as well.

A few miles, the Coyotes were travelling as a pack down the interstate before they too broke up into their respective pairs and moved off in opposite directions.

In Texas, the strange motorcycle contraption, the Palamino lookalike, and the white limousine raced along the road headed north for parts unknown.

In Mexico City, at the ruined OMAR Facility, the OMAR crews were already at work trying to repair the damage wrought earlier by the three vehicles and their owners. At a nearby parking garage, a lone man in a suit minus the jacket looked through a long telephoto lens as he snapped photos of the devastation while next to him sat a strange looking black and white vehicle. On the hood of the vehicle was a single word: _ChronoPol_.


	11. Time for War

OMAR HQ: The now twelve executives of OMAR each sat in stunned silence at the loss of Number Three. On the screen above Number One was a blurry image of the three vehicles that had stormed the Mexico City compound the previous day.

"Unacceptable," said Number One, their voice dripping with malice. "We are OMAR, we are unmatched by anything alive today, and we don't lose to anyone! And above all else, OMAR Executives are always to survive!"

There was no response to any of what One said, only scores of unanswered questions.

"SEVEN!" shouted One at the executive in charge of the investigation over what had happened.

"Right…right," said Seven's image as the executive began gathering their invisible notes. "As we are all well aware, yesterday three vehicles of unknown make and model and with radically advanced weaponry decimated an OMAR compound in Mexico City."

"Yes, but who were they and why?" asked Number Four. "In the past when we've been attacked, we've almost always known in advance and been able to fend off our attackers."

The others nodded their heads at that in unanimous agreement.

"Well we know this much, they didn't take anything from the facility," Seven continued. "No data, no files, no equipment, absolutely nothing. They were there for only one reason, Three."

More silence.

"And given the nature of the attackers and the one thing Three was the most concerned about as of late…," Seven trailed off. One's head shot up at that.

"That is an unacceptable answer for what happened," One said icily.

"It's the best one we've…," began Seven when One growled angrily at that startling everyone in the room.

"There are more explanations that you are not considering," One retorted. "And until you have exhausted all the other possibilities will we even remotely consider Three's nervous ramblings as a possible explanation."

Seven reluctantly nodded their head at that, clearly remembering One's angry rant against Three for what Three perceived as the next threat they would face beyond America.

"Well I do have one final thought," said Seven putting their invisible notes away. "If they didn't steal any information from Mexico City, then that means there's only one destination they could be headed for next."

One's eyes became extremely large at that as did everyone else's on the board.

"The North American data server…," said Eleven in a hushed tone. "The one we built from the advanced technologies…"

"They have to be headed there," said Seven helplessly. "It's the only logical option left since the rest of us are too far away to be viable targets. By my estimations, they'll reach it in roughly a week."

"Then I need plans drafted and forwarded for the defense of our central data server by next meeting," Eight, their head military strategist, ordered immediately. "Use of advanced weaponry is authorized but we should not get Auntie and her units involved in this. No doubt she knows about the Mexican incursion and so we cannot afford to let her know that we may be vulnerable for the next few days. We cannot afford to have that server fall into enemy hands."

The others nodded in unison as One pondered several things before reluctantly nodding their head as well. The lights went off above the images of the OMAR Executives leaving One alone once more. The Executive looked around the darkened room a little fearfully before glancing over at Three's empty chair. And then that fear turned to indignant anger.

"This is it, the war you always thought coming is beginning now," said One with a grave voice. "But even though I was always critical of you, I always deeply considered everything you've said and done my best to prepare. OMAR WILL NOT FALL!"

One spun around in their chair and glared daggers at the blurry image of the three vehicles before angrily pressing a button and One's image vanished from the room.

Colorado: "Damn that Convoy," Slick muttered as he and John sat in a parking lot with assorted other vehicles at the Busted Hump Ski Resort. "I leave freezing cold Colorado only to return to freezing cold Colorado!"

The two of them were sitting by a garbage can that had a fire lit in it as security guards passed by doing their rounds as the night fell. The resort was now home to the rich and famous who had managed to somehow escape the devastation as they somehow always did. They would have thrown out John and Slick except that John had managed to repair their malfunctioning ski-lift and some of the residents had recognized Slick from his modeling days. But there were no rooms and just to sleep in the lobby would've required cash they didn't have and so they were permitted to stay in the parking lot for the next week.

"Let me guess. If you had been leader, things would've been different," said John knowingly. Slick nodded his head affirmatively.

"Yeah, I'd be the one in SoCal and you'd be the one here freezing your butt off," he acknowledged. John shook his head as he briefly laughed at that.

"Well at least you're honest," he replied before producing a thermos that still had some coffee in it. He poured a little bit into Slick's cup who accepted it gratefully.

"Yeah, well, more honest than the jokers who are living here," said Slick looking at the lights in the resort disgusted. "I don't know why we're even bothering to protect them, they're the scum of the Earth."

"That's rich," said John accusatorily. "I thought you always wanted wealth and fame."

Slick nodded his head. "I did, once. But if this little journey has taught me anything it's that wealth and fame make you weak. The only real true proofs of strength are the ability to do what is necessary and the dedication to pull it off."

"Whatever, kid," said John too tired to care as he yawned and stretched. "I'm gonna do a late night sweep of the lodge's perimeter before turning in. Do you want to take first watch?"

Slick laughed at that as John briefly chuckled too. "I'll defend them if I'm awake, but these rich and famous fools can defend themselves if I'm not."

"Right, I'll be back shortly," said John as he thrust his hands into his coat pockets and walked off, his breath clearly visible in the cold nighttime air. A light snow began to fall, but rather retreat to his vehicle, Slick leaned back on his lawn chair and placed his cowboy hat over his face and propped his feet up on the metal chain that was tied to the garbage can. As soon as he had done this, he heard the soft sound of snow being crunched below shoes, but he made no move to get up. None of the Coyotes would be foolish enough to try anything on foot with all of the security guards around anyway. Or so Slick hoped.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" asked the voice of this mysterious guest of John's vacated chair.

"Suit yourself, but my friend will be back soon," Slick pointed out.

"That's fine, I won't be here long," the other voice responded. "I just wanted to warm myself by the fire."

"How come you aren't inside with the rest of your…friends?" asked Slick bluntly. A laugh greeted him at that statement.

"They're no friends of mine," was the stranger's response. Slick snorted at that.

"You hang with 'em, you fry with 'em," said Slick bitterly.

"Yes, but I've learned over a long time that emotional attachments can only lead to ruin down the road. You want to survive, look only to yourself and then plant your feet and if anything stands in your way…well…if it drives by, blow it up," said the other voice angrily.

"Whatever you say old man," said Slick only partially paying attention before thinking internally. "_You sound fully loaded, fully loco_."

"I'm not that old, Slick," said John's familiar voice breaking into Slick's reverie. The younger man bolted up and tipped up his cowboy hat and looked around in different directions but found no one but himself and the scientist.

"What?" asked John curious as he began checking his pockets for something.

"You didn't see anyone here just a moment ago did you?" asked Slick curious. John shook his head lightly as he produced a cigar and lit it with the garbage can fire.

"No, just you mumbling to yourself in your sleep," said the scientist. "It's a good thing I came back when I did, you fall asleep tonight and you'll catch hypothermia or worse."

"Yeah," said Slick slowly getting to his feet. "You see anything unusual out there?"

"Not really. Just three new arrivals, but that's about it," John remarked offhand as he smoked his cigar. "I'm going to finish this and turn in, not that I'm concerned about your well being, but I'd suggest you do the same."

Slick laughed at that. "All the same, thanks."

John nodded his head and slapped Slick on the back before heading to his car. The playboy looked around a couple times as he gathered his things before heading for his nearby vehicle. As he reached it, something caught his eye and a big grin broke out across his face. He dumped his stuff in the back of his 4x4 and immediately made a beeline for what he had seen.

"Hello, gorgeous," he said slinking up to her and running his hands across her smooth lines and pressing his face against her side. "If you and me could be together forever, it still wouldn't be enough time…"

"Hey!" shouted a guard. "Get away from there!"

"Right, sorry officer," Slick apologized before looking at his prize one last time. "Until next time, beautiful."

He quickly retreated from the object of his affections, a single white stretch limousine and back to his vehicle where he fell straight into a blissful sleep. From behind the limousine, a lone figure in a cowboy hat examined the individual closely before moving on, as above, a single light in one of the rooms went dark.

Nighttime, Yuma Desert, Arizona: Dave and Sheila sat in their sleeping bags in front of their cars, which were parked on a ridge overlooking the United States Air Force Base that was responsible for protecting most of the southwest from attack. The base was fully illuminated as planes periodically landed and took off again for parts unknown.

"Seems strange they'd attack a military base, but then again these Coyotes just seem to have a death wish," said Sheila disgusted.

"They work for OMAR, they'd have to be," was Dave's only response. A strange whirring sound caught their attention as one of Dave's tiny saucers appeared and landed next to him.

"I'll download the telemetry from this little guy in the morning and come up with a plan of attack," he announced. Sheila nodded distantly before pulling her knees up to her chin as she shivered briefly in the cold air.

"Do you think they'll come after us, too?" she asked of the USAF. Dave nodded his head.

"We'll just have to be careful out there and keep our wits about us," the hippie responded. "But we'll be fine, Convoy trusted us with this mission and that means a lot."

Sheila brightened up a little bit at that statement. "Yeah! And we can't let him down. Thanks, Dave, I'll see you in the morning."

Dave nodded in agreement with a grin on his face as Sheila got into her sleeping bag and soon was snoring away. The hippie too was about to turn in when his eyes fell on his toy saucer that he'd souped up with the technology from Site 4. But with that came memories of the daunting image of the flying saucer floating above the ground and bristling with weaponry, seemingly ready to head straight for civilization and lay siege to it. All it needed was its occupant, who was currently sitting in a tank of some sort completely immobile, but looking into its eyes told the whole story. Alien though they may be, to Dave, the eyes expressed pure uninhibited rage. At what or who, the hippie didn't know, but he hoped he never found out.

"_But I still need to know about the technology I found at Site 4…_," thought Dave desperately and that alien was his best chance at figuring that mystery out. He just hoped that he would make it to that point, after all, America was still crumbling, the world on the verge of total collapse, and he had just discovered radically advanced technology and an alien and his flying saucer to boot.

But before Dave could worry himself to death, he looked over at Sheila who was sleeping peacefully. She was likely having the same thoughts he was, she was extremely bright but mostly hid that fact, but she wasn't letting it worry her and he knew he couldn't afford the same. Worrying about things that were beyond his control was always a problem of his and Sheila often had to pull him back with a word or two, similar to what Convoy had said to him before they parted ways. With that in mind, he laid back down in his sleeping bag and looked up at the stars and wondered what secrets they held just beyond his reach before he too fell into sleep.

Site 4: The base had slowly gotten back to a state of semi-normalcy after the destruction wrought by the Vigilantes and Coyotes and the base's own General Stokely. The hanger that he had rammed his out of control aircraft into was on the base's to-do list to clean up, but now they were dealing with new management and trying to please that boss who was intent on beefing up security in case anyone else tried to attack the base.

Inside the hanger, the roof had since collapsed and covered all the remaining technology with debris leaving the place eerily silent aside from the occasional sound that filtered in from the outside.

Then a sound was heard, a sound of glass splintering and cracking as part of the debris suddenly starting shifting…and then a single small green and gray fist punched free of the debris and then more of it shifted as a small green and gray body arose and stood on its own two feet. It coughed briefly on the dust and debris before glancing around the ruined warehouse and noting the state it was in…and the lack of one '64 Luxo Saucer. But the little alien did not panic, it merely thrust out its arms and made a rising motion with its hands. As it did so, an otherworldly noise was heard as more debris began shaking rapidly and then shifting as the flying saucer lifted itself up and began hovering nearby looking as pristine as the day it rolled off the Luxoflux assembly line. The alien subsequently looked at the saucer with an evil look in its eyes with a matching grin before headings for its vehicle. It entered briefly before subsequently emerging while now armed with several ray guns and a red bandanna wrapped around its forehead. It made its way across the debris and to the warehouse entrance and looked out at the nighttime scene at the base.

The base was fully lighted up with lights strung up everywhere as jeeps drove by left and right full of soldiers. The little alien observed the situation it was now in with great detail before noticing an area of opportunity. It then took one of its laser rifles and aimed it out into the night sky before firing off a round and immediately all of the lights went out and shouts were heard from the soldiers out in the field. The alien grinned briefly at this before throwing its free hand out at the Luxo Saucer and clenching its fist. The image of the saucer subsequently blurred and then it vanished from sight under the guise of a cloaking device. Once this was accomplished the alien re-slung its rifle and let out a deep breath and then headed out into the night.

'Y' the Alien, lived.

9:06 a.m. Busted Hump Ski Resort: Slick was still sleeping peacefully in the back of his vehicle when a Sky Hammer mortar shell from beyond the treelines arced high overhead and then impacted in the middle of the slalom course throwing snow and flags everywhere. The playboy blinked a couple of times and smacked his lips before yawning and stretching. He popped open the back of his vehicle and climbed out as chaos reigned outside with the rich and famous running everywhere, with some getting in their vehicles and trying to flee, only to crash into other vehicles and create a mess trying to leave the parking lot.

Through the chaos, Slick stumbled over to John Torque who was looking up the massive slope towards the top of the ski-lift with his binoculars.

"Howdy," the scientist offered half-heartedly to the playboy as he approached. Slick nodded to him and also looked up at the slopes.

"What've we got?" he asked, yawning again.

"One Stag Pickup with camper and one Leprechaun," he analyzed from the movement above as he put his binoculars away.

"Dibs on the Stag," Slick called and walked off back towards his vehicle. John nodded before noticing a small layer of snow sliding down the mountain.

"We'd better be careful about using our more special weapons because the bassquake and your lightning blasts might cause an avalanche," he called after the playboy. Slick shot him a thumbs up and got into his vehicle and soon both were racing up the mountain towards the enemy.

USAF Base: Sheila and Dave were enjoying some homemade rice cakes when an air raid siren went off. They began scrambling for their vehicles as a scatter missile zoomed through the air and exploded raining heavy weaponry on the base while thick black smog appeared on a beeline for the base.

Busted Hump Ski Resort: Beezwax was shouting instructions to Boogie about how to properly operate his new disco ball of doom when a brusier cannon shell slammed into the top of his camper and nearly threw his vehicle off the edge of a nearby slope. As the beekeeper wrestled back control of his vehicle, a blue and white 4x4 leapt over a nearby ridge and slammed down behind him.

"You didn't think you were the only who is allowed on the slopes did you?" asked the other driver curious. Beezwax scowled at that as mosquito bullet shells began hammering the rear of his vehicle.

"No, just the best," he declared darkly. He dropped a roadkill mine that went off scattering snow and dirt and causing the Clydesdale to vanish from sight. Beezwax grinned to himself at that outcome before the roar of an angry engine caught his attention. Looking down the slope he noticed the 4x4 slowly sliding backward as it tried to gain traction in the snow as the beekeeper brought his Stag pickup to a stop and watched. The 4x4 struggled on the slope before finally finding purchase and came to a halt, facing up at him.

As Beezwax hurried to bring his weapons to bear on the other vehicle, it fired with a bulls-eye rocket that intentionally went high and impacted with the shelf above him, causing another small avalanche of snow to push his vehicle down the slope until it too spun around and both vehicles were now parallel, facing the top of the mountain. Their engines roared in unison as the two drivers looked at each other, Beezwax with his crazed eyes and Slick with his dark sunglasses and cowboy hat, both of them thinking the exact same thing: whoever reached the top controlled the mountain. And then both vehicles began ripping up the mountain while taking potshots at each other and avoiding the nearby slalom flags.

Nearby, John watched them go in confusion before having to concentrate on more immediate concerns in the form of Boogie's Leprechaun that was now tearing around the bottom ski-lift area and firing on everything in sight. As the small vehicle descended on the parking lot, so did John's Jefferson, which slid to a halt on the other end as the rich and famous scattered everywhere.

"Whoa, do you really think you can move to the groove?" Boogie threatened in disbelief over the CB. John's angry revving of his engine was his initial answer to that before popping the trunk revealing the bassquake machine that began lighting up.

"Let's rock and roll!" he yelled in response as the two vehicles leapt at each other, all weapons firing.

USAF Base: Sheila drove up a wing of a junked aircraft and went airborne as the area she had just vacated, exploded into one giant fireball. A USAF plane continued on its path above her, having just dropped some heavy ordinance hoping to hit her, but to no avail. As she continued her arc over some other wreckage, she finally found her quarry in the form of Molo's oversized bus.

Although, at a glance, it may not have made much sense for her tiny vehicle to be going after the oversized one and having Dave's van go after the small Glen 4x4, it did make sense strategically. The bus was an easy enough target, and she was fast enough to avoid most of its weaponry, while Dave's modified scanners could more easily track Loki's vehicle and his newly modified saucers could also keep up with the tiny vehicle's actions.

Now if only the USAF would quit carpet bombing the wreckage surrounding them, they might actually succeed in their mission.

Site 4: A door leading in from the outside suddenly began glowing around its frame with an otherworldly light that nearly lit up the darkened corridor beyond before suddenly going dark again as the door now pushed open and the barrel of a laser rifle poked in through the entryway, soon followed by the short commando alien.

'Y' scampered down the hall in silence before reaching the areas of the base that had had their lighting restored and then cautiously darted from doorway to doorway and hiding behind the occasional crate as needed. Where the little gray and green creature was going was something only known to him, but it was definitely headed there as it produced a small portable scanner and examined its readings before heading off again, trying its best not be noticed.

Control Room: The room was fully operational with monitors everywhere and a host of technicians and other military personnel making sure everything was running smoothly on the base. Right now the current talk was of the strange power failure that they had had that was now being fixed, but a small curiosity was the focus of one technician monitoring their television screen.

"Sir?" asked the technician of the officer on duty. The lieutenant on duty was signing a requisition form.

"Yes?" came the response before the officer came over and stood behind him and looked down at the screen.

"Sir, I know this seems like a stretch, but I think we may have an intruder in the base," said the technician as he pressed some buttons on his workstation. Their monitor currently displayed an image of one of the hallways in the base and it showed a couple of workers passing down the corridor carrying spools of cable, but otherwise was empty save for several crates littering the hallways.

"What am I looking for?" asked the officer at a loss. To think a human was hiding behind those crates was too ridiculous a notion for words.

"There it is again!" said the technician, pointing to the far crate and a small splotch that had appeared behind it. Then, even more strangely, a blur zipped from one crate to another to another and then was gone from sight.

"Rewind and freeze," the officer ordered quickly. The technician knew what the officer was hoping to figure out and did their best to display an image of the thing that had just made those quick movements. The image that subsequently displayed caused the officer to nearly drop his pen in shock and the technician glad they hadn't taken a sip of their coffee.

The image was still extremely grainy, but the twin dark eyes, the blur's short stature, and the deadly cache of weaponry strapped to its back gave an image that was unmistakable.

"B-but…but all the specimens we have are…," he began bewildered. The technician nodded their head in agreement.

"Yeah, but we all knew Stokely often kept secrets from us. This could have been one of them," came the reply. "If that thing was in the hanger that he crashed into and those attackers raided…"

"But where is it headed?" asked the officer, curious. Why hadn't the thing just fled when it had the chance?

The technician looked at a map of the building and realization dawned on their eyes.

"It's headed for the others!" the technician shouted causing others to turn their heads confused before returning to their work. The officer meanwhile slowly stood up, nodded curtly, and walked to the emergency phone, trying to avoid the thoughts in his head and picked up the phone.

"General? Yes, this is Lieutenant Randell down in operations. Sir, we have a rapidly developing situation down here," he spoke into it.

Hallway: The alien had finally reached its destination in the form of a stainless steel door that had a sign reading: Examination Room. The alien craned its head back to read the words before glancing over at the keypad next to it. But instead of trying to hop up to try and reach it, or push up a crate, the alien reproduced its datapad and pointed it at the device on the wall. The alien then pressed a button on it and a light glowed on the top of the pad as the buttons on the wall device began pressing and depressing in various sequences.

Then with a hissing sound, the door slowly opened with a creaking sound. The alien took a tentative step back as it placed its datapad back in its satchel and then swung up two of its laser cannons and aimed them at the door.

"Warning, you are entering a sterile room, please have…BOOOM!" the PA system exploded as the alien took a shot at it when it started speaking. The alien glanced around furtively, it knew they were coming, but it had come too far to turn back now. It then proceeded through the door and down a glass hallway that was suspended high above a large room below where various scientists decked out completely in white were examining all sorts of charts, technology, and diagrams that meant little to the alien.

And so the alien continued on, past the oblivious scientists and towards another door at the far end of the hallway which read: 'Dissection Room'. As the device in his satchel began incessantly beeping, the alien raised up both laser rifles once more and pushed its way into the room beyond, disappearing in a wave of fog that emanated from the door.

Busted Hump Ski Resort: An oversized woman who had a fur coat on and held the leashes to several poodles made her way through the rapidly disintegrating lodge lobby as explosions rattled the windows, roof, and everything else not nailed down. She was surrounded by her security detail whom were looking around fearfully at the state of the building as a particularly loud explosion rocked the entire foundation of the building and caused a wooden support beam to come crashing down nearby. But she and her security guards were still making their way through and were advancing ever closer to the doors leading to the parking lot.

_CRAAAAAASHHHHHHHHHH!_

And then everything rapidly fell apart as two cars came crashing through the full length glass windows and doors that opened out to the slopes beyond. The woman and her security guards could only stand there shocked as the two vehicles slid across the lobby, leaving streaks of mud and snow behind as they slammed through the various pieces of furniture before coming to a halt across from each other. Unfortunately, the woman and her security detail just so happened to be caught in the crosshairs of the two vehicles.

"_Damn it,_" thought John frustrated. Avoiding friendly casualties had been his top priority and it had not proven easy. Though he would never say it aloud, let alone go through with it, he did have to admit that Slick may have had a point in there being some people not worth saving. But that was one of the few things separating him from Sid Burn and the others, the same Sid who had massacred John's family without a second glance in order to force John to his cause.

"Looks like we've got a problem with too many dancers on the floor," said Boogie as he revved his engine. "Well, we can fix that can't we?"

The black and white box on the back of his vehicle popped open and the disco ball slowly levitated above the back of the car and began to spin rapidly. Although he wasn't sure what the ball did, he knew it was bad news for the civilians, but his options were limited if he didn't want to do the same with his response. He only really had one option left, he just hoped it would work.

"Slick?" he yelled into his radio. "I need your help!"

Up the slopes, Slick and Beezwax were taking potshots at each other with their bruiser cannons while avoiding everything on the slopes when the call came in.

"Oh come on, John, you can't be in trouble already!" said the playboy back into his radio.

"I'm not," came the tense reply. "I'm just in a bad spot right now at the lodge and a group of civilians are about to get caught in the crossfire."

Beezwax's laughter came across from that message as Slick stared up at the ridge of the slope just beyond his reach, begging for him to reach it first.

"Are they worth it?" he had to know.

"They never are," came Beezwax's unsympathetic response. "They never will be."

"But we don't have any choice," said John trying to get through to the playboy. "And you know that as well as I do."

"What's it gonna be, kid?" the beekeeper goaded maliciously. Slick sighed deeply as his Clydesdale came to a screeching halt underneath the ski lift as the Stag continued on its course. The playboy promptly flipped some switches on his weapons console and his lightning rod crackled with energy and then promptly turned itself into an electromagnet as the whole vehicle leapt off the ground as the rod attached itself to the ski lift ropes and soon the Clydesdale was racing down the slopes headed for the lodge.

"Just remember, kid, emotional attachments make you weak!" Beezwax called after him as the words the mystery figure had said earlier came rushing to his mind. "_I've learned over a long time that emotional attachments can only lead to ruin down the road_." Slick sighed even more deeply before gripping his steering wheel as tight as he could as the lodge drew ever closer before he yelled to the skies above.

Down below, the disco ball began pulsating ever brighter and was about to fire when the loud screeching of metal began filling the lobby as Slick's 4x4 came into sight and then detached from the cable and flew directly at the side of Boogie's car and then slammed it through the front doors and out into the parking lot as the disco ball began shooting flares in various directions. Without a word the two vehicles took up a defensive position in front of the defenseless individuals and unflinchingly took the brunt of the attack that dinged up their vehicles and tore paint off the sides.

But the attack eventually stopped and the two vehicles continued standing, as if they were silent guardians keeping the evils of the world from getting in, and soon the sound of a motor was heard as Boogie drove off away from the lodge for places unknown. The humans for their part headed for the door, the rich woman not even bothering to look at them, just leaving in silence with her pets, but the security details looked at the two vehicles and nodded their heads in appreciation and then were gone as well.

John breathed out a deep breath as he looked over at the Clydesdale with a smile slowly crossing his face.

"Thanks," said John, inwardly he knew what breaking off from his race up the mountain meant to the playboy. "I know it wasn't easy to come back to save someone who isn't worth it."

"No, it's not," Slick acknowledged as he finally released his grip on the wheel and cracked his knuckles as a low rumble was heard building outside. "I can only hope that she was worth it, because we just lost this battle in our attempts to do the right thing."

"Yes," said John knowingly as a wall of snow raced for the opening into the lodge. "But only time will tell, always does."

The wall of snow slammed into the remains of the lodge and ripped it to shreds as Beezwax watched approvingly of the avalanche he had created.

"Not cool man, not cool," said Boogie as his Leprechaun showed up at the bottom of the slopes. "My hair color is all natural and I don't need the ladies to see me now and think I'm frosted over."

"Cute," said the beekeeper, whose hair had long since grayed over, along with his beard. "Let's go, we have a sand pit to destroy."

"Right," came the voice from below as the Leprechaun roared off down the road towards the highway. They left behind a near clean slate of snow where once there had been an entire ski resort and absolute silence.

_Cracckkkkk!_

And then lightning bolts came thundering down from above and began ripping out large chunks of snow, and ice, and soil flinging them in different directions. After a few bolts had passed, silence reigned, and then more thunderbolts struck down in the same spot as before, causing more and more of a crater to appear. And then a pulse of blue energy shot out and the whole ground shook causing snow and debris to be blasted outwards. From this mess that was slowly falling down, the Jefferson and the Clydesdale roared out of the pit and onto the ground above before driving off away from the area.

USAF Base: "We did it, Dave!" said Sheila ecstatic as Molo and Loki fled the burning airfield, the majority of it still left intact despite their best attempts to do otherwise.

"Yeah, we did," said Dave, also appreciative. "Now I just need to do one last thing before we leave."

His van came to a halt back on the ridge from before as he hopped out of his seat and got in the back with his sensitive sensor equipment.

"What are you up to?" said Sheila concerned as she looked to the skies, concerned. Two or three USAF Bombers were still hanging around in the overcast sky and she was afraid they'd make a run at them.

"Just hold them off for a little bit, I just need to find something out first," said Dave as his fingers flew across the keyboard to his sensor equipment.

"I really don't-oh, alright," said Sheila resigned. It was hard enough dodging the planes with the wreckage on the base as coverage. With Dave's van at a stop and them being on a flat plane had her worried to say the least. But she'd defend him, she owed him that much at least.

…And then the bombers began heading towards them.

"Dave!" shouted Sheila to the hippie as the roar of the engines got louder and louder.

"Just a few more minutes," he promised, deep in thought over what he was doing. The teenager began furiously prepping her weapons for an air attack as the planes began angling down at them and opening their bomb bays to unleash a devastating assault on the two vehicles.

"Dave, either you finish now or we're both screwed!" shouted Sheila diving into her Strider and firing up the engine.

"Almost…there…," he said in frustration as he squinted hard at the screens facing him while sweat beaded down his face. The three bombers were getting ever closer as the screaming sounds of them tearing through the air got ever louder. And then…

_!_

The planes abruptly split up as three pairs of strange lights in the clouds above hurtled past them and then took up a holding position above the base.

"Dave!" shouted Sheila in shock at what she was witnessing. The planes now raced immediately overhead, buffeting her against her vehicle, and then ascended into the cloud cover, all guns firing at the source of the lights, which subsequently scattered in response before homing in on the planes that raced past where they had been.

"What the hell?" said a clearly perplexed Dave from his console, paying no heed to what was going on outside. On his screens, images were rapidly blinking past in ever increasing speed.

"What's going on, now?" asked Sheila rushing to the vehicle and standing by the open doors. Dave was adjusting some knobs on his instrumentation before looking at her incredulously. Though Sheila didn't notice it, because her attention was now focused on Dave, electrical bolts began racing through the clouds above in different directions. After a few moments of this, an explosion ripped through the clouds and one of the bombers immediately fell towards the ground, both its engines on fire and trailing smoke before colliding with the ground and bursting into flames. As fire trucks raced to the scene, anti-aircraft cannons on the ground now opened fire, trying to track the lights to no avail.

"I was hoping to see if there was some way that I could remote hack the base but wasn't having much success, but now somebody is doing it and downloading information from the base at an astounding speed," said Dave perplexed and slightly in awe.

"And I bet I know who is doing it too," Sheila responded knowingly as she pushed Dave's chair so that it forced him to look outside.

"I don't see any…," he began until Sheila pushed his chin up to look at the clouds as an orange-yellow beam shot out from one of the sets of lights and tunneled through the clouds causing yet another explosion as debris from one of the other bombers came raining down nearby.

"It can't be," said Dave as all the color drained from his face as he rushed back to his console and began pressing more buttons and one of his saucers headed for the clouds above. Sheila returned her attention to the dogfight above with concern as the explosions seemed to be drawing ever closer to their current position. After seeing the bomber make a brief reappearance below the cloud cover and noticing it was now riddled with bullet holes and impact craters, she made her decision.

"Dave, this has gone on long enough, we're leaving now!" she ordered. The hippie looked at her helplessly as the data continued flashing past his screens.

"I-I can't," he said weakly. "I have to know…"

Sheila just shook her head defiantly. "Figure it out later, if we don't leave now, it'll be too late."

"I-I-I," Dave stammered as Sheila rolled her eyes and began pressing various buttons on his console, causing it to shut down and the saucer to return to the vehicle.

"NOW!" she yelled at him and ran for her vehicle. Dave looked as the saucer landed on his shelf and then up at the sky as part of the rear fuselage of the bomber above came crashing down nearby. Again the sounds of bullets and other weaponry could be heard far above as the lights sources continued moving in numerous directions, harassing the plane above to no end.

_CLLLAAANNNNNNNGGGGGGGGG!_

The sound of metal slicing through metal was heard and that was all Dave needed to hear to finally make his decision as he slammed the doors shut in the back of his van and leapt into the driver's seat and slammed down on the accelerator as the wreckage from the final bomber now fell from the sky directly above him. If not for Sheila's insistence, they both would have been flattened as the Strider and Van barely made it out of the impact zone as the plane slammed into the dirt throwing a dust cloud around the two vehicles, obscuring their sight.

All except for three sets of lights that shot by quickly overhead and vanished off into the horizon and the slowly sinking sun…

Site 4: Soldiers filed into the examination room and were greeted by the sight of a short green and gray alien squatting down with its hands, and by extension of still holding them, his laser guns, pressed against the sides of its head, that was visibly shaking in a mixture of grief, anguish, and rage. On the gurneys in the white sterile room were the remains of three similar aliens, all of which had been dissected and had their guts and bodily fluids contained in several glass jars. The soldiers stood there with their weapons drawn on the small creature as it stopped shaking and slowly stood back up and dropped its arms to its sides, the laser guns now pointing to the ground. The silent standoff continued for a few moments until a new arrival in full military regalia stepped into the room.

"Specimen Y, I presume," he said simply as the alien turned to glare at him. The glare did little to affect the general who produced a clipboard and began flipping through it. "I managed to recover some of the documents from my predecessor and that's what he called you. I'm guessing you haven't forgotten him?"

The alien's angry glare answered that question as the general nodded, pleased.

"Good. From what I understand, you were an object of extreme interest to him and he took every available opportunity to study you and your compatriots. With some very interesting results, I might add," the general continued as the alien was growing more and more steamed at him. He made a brief move to raise his arms and his two guns, but the soldiers immediately trained their weapons on him.

"I'd advise against that, I'd hate to lose the only living specimen we have left on this base," said the general unapologetically. "Partly because I'd like to find out where you came from and the reason you're really here. I know you came here partly because of those three, but they crashed some time ago and you just recently got here and were captured nowhere near where their corpses were recovered. So you're here to complete whatever mission they started and I need to know what that is."

The alien still was not saying anything, just looking at the soldiers with now cold calculating eyes.

"So go on, speak," the general insisted. "I know you know our language and I'd love to hear what you have to say, regardless of what that is."

The alien now looked up at the smug general for a few more moments before a sly smile spread across its face and it uttered one word very softly.

"What was that, I didn't quite catch that?" the general asked, theatrically cupping his ear.

"Cannon," said the alien once more as an even broader grin spread across its face. The general looked perplexed at this until…

_BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMMM!_

The general and his troops were thrown to the floor as the top half of the room instantly vaporized into thin air and the sounds of a flying saucer were heard overhead. The general coughed on the resulting debris before shakily getting to his feet and removing his service revolver and shakily aimed it at the alien through his blurred vision. High winds were now buffeting the room and the other soldiers as the general tried to maintain his footing.

"I won't let you escape!" the general roared over the loud noises all around him. The alien's grin lessened at that before it chuckled lightly.

"I'd advise against that," the alien reminded the general. "I'd hate to lose the only living specimen we have left who is no longer on this base."

Then there was a flash of light and the alien vanished from sight and the saucer began to pull away from above. The general watched it go before raising his revolver and firing in vain at the departing craft that vanished into the nighttime sky. As soon as it was gone, the general lowered his gun and looked over at his second in command.

"Ready a retrieval team, that alien is coming back to this facility one way or the other!" he commanded and left the remains of the room behind and a clearly terrified second in command.

Nighttime Sky: The Luxo Saucer rushed in from above and came to a halt above the desert floor before powering down. Inside, the alien pilot powered down the craft and leaned back in its chair as it reflected on what had just happened. It was still angry about what had happened to its predecessors on the base, but the general had been right, it did have a mission to accomplish. A mission to destroy every single piece of advanced technology that had been located in that secret hanger at the base. And with that technology currently in the hands of civilians, the alien vaguely recalled, it made the job that much harder. With that in mind, it brought up footage that the saucer had shot of the battle and repeatedly watched it on the viewscreen as it absorbed every detail. As it viewed the images, one detail stood out in its mind, that of a long brown haired individual with glasses wearing a jacket, plaid shirt, and jeans with the title 'Dave' who looked at the technology in the hanger and at the flying saucer differently than the rest, as if secretly contemplating some mystery he thought was there.

"_So…apparently not all of humanity is as oblivious to the nature of that technology as those at Site 4_," the alien contemplated. "_Good. I must find this Dave, complete my mission, and then I will enact my revenge_."


	12. Sacramento

Carson City, Nevada: A sign on the side of the road had advertised the Zuni-Vista's Hotel's free color TV and air conditioning and so Chassey and Convoy had decided to spend the night rather than out in the blazing heat on the side of the road. And so Chassey and Convoy had gotten rooms on opposite sides of the hallway and spent part of the night coming up with a plan to save the Premium Fruit Company's orchards and distribution facility from getting destroyed. The Company was one of the few food producers still left in the Southwest that got produce out to the places of safety and allowed them to thrive.

At the moment, Convoy was sitting on the windowsill looking out at the road and nearby California as he held his coffee mug in his hands before closing his eyes and yawning as out the window and unseen to him, a motorcycle contraption, Palamino-like car, and stretch limousine raced past the building and towards the Golden State. The trucker then blinked a couple times and briefly glanced out the window at the dust of the departing vehicles before taking another drink from his mug.

"Hey Convoy, come I come in?" asked Chassey from the hallway. The trucker finished off his coffee and washed out his mug in the sink before putting it in his suitcase and slamming it closed.

"Yeah," he responded as he stretched one more time as the FBI agent entered the room. She had her sunglasses on and her hair up in a ponytail and was sporting a blue sleeveless spandex outfit that the trucker figured would've caused Slick to faint if he saw her in it. Yet another reason he was glad he assigned the playboy to work with John because he suspected that if he was here, he'd just be hitting on Chassey all the time and not getting any work done. The kid had a lot of potential, he just needed to apply himself better and he hoped John would allow him to see that.

"Ready to go?" said Chassey interrupting his thoughts as she lugged her suitcase in one hand. The trucker nodded.

"Big day today, the others have already had their first battle and we need to keep up our end of the action," said the trucker as they headed downstairs and checked in their room keys at the front desk, the owner grateful for having seen some business and then were out the door on the road once more.

Elsewhere: The Vigilantes and Coyotes slowly woke up from their slumber and slowly began making preparations for the day.

California, West of the El Dorado National Forest: Sid Burn groggily got sat up in his seat and pushed open the driver's side door before coughing heavily as several beer cans spilled out onto the ground. The groggy mercenary got to his feet and stretched before waving his hand to try and bring some cool air to his face in light of the blistering early morning heat. A light wind thankfully blew across the terrain, cooling his face, as the British native turned his attentions to his companion who was standing solitarily next to her vehicle.

"See any jackalopes?" he asked, taking out a canteen and taking a sip from it. The female cyborg gave no motion to response and just continued to stand still staring straight ahead. Sid was about to respond with a quip when the sound of engines reached his ears. Quickly scanning the horizon, he noticed dust rising in the distance from cars on the highway that couldn't be seen by the naked eye. Next to him, lights began blinking on Houston's armband and the cyborg slowly started to life and also looked at the horizon and the unseen vehicles.

"Finally awake, huh?" asked Sid. "Good, now let's get going, I see some early morning warm up target practice."

He was about to head for his vehicle when Houston spoke.

"NEGATIVE," she responded shaking her head. "SENSORS DETECT OMAR TECHNOLOGY PRESENT."

"OMAR technology?" repeated Sid bewildered. "There's no OMAR technology out here besides you, that's why we're out here!"

"OMAR TECHNOLOGY DETECTED," Houston repeated oblivious to his statements and still staring at the dust. "BEGINNING UPLINK."

The lights on Houston's armband began blinking in rapid succession as she lifted her arm out and pointed it at the unseen vehicles and a blue energy beam erupted from it, aimed out at the moving vehicles.

"UPLINK ESTABLISHED, EXCHANGING DATA PACKETS," the cyborg continued. The cyborg continued standing there with her arm pointed at the dust cloud before the vehicles audibly screeched to a halt.

"Looks like you got their attention," Sid noted as he reached back into his vehicle for his shotgun and held it aiming backwards, the barrel resting on his shoulder. But instead of the vehicles meeting them, an orange energy beam shot back across the blue one Houston had projected and enveloped her.

"ALERT, ALERT!" she declared as her armband began throwing off sparks and electricity arced across it. "INTERNAL BIO-DATABANK OVERLOADED BY EXTERNAL SOURCE!"

Sid looked at her bewildered before squinting at the source of the orange energy beam, which he couldn't see because of the heat obscuring his vision.

"_What is going on here?_" he wondered internally as a thousand ideas crossed his mind. And then the energy beam stopped and Houston slumped over while the sounds of engines revving was heard and the unseen vehicles continued on their path. The mercenary was torn between trying to figure out what happened and his desire to confront the strangers on the road, but then his choice was made for him as Houston 3 apparently rebooted and straightened up.

"You okay?" asked Sid a little bit concerned. It was not so much that he cared for her well being, but his own. If she stopped working, it'd be harder for him to get his mission done. But the cyborg remained silent as the sound of the engines got quieter and quieter as even the dust from the vehicles disappeared from sight.

"Houston 3, what is your operational status?" demanded the scientist, placing his hand on her shoulder. The cyborg's head turned towards him and Sid Burn was taken aback at the now yellowish-orange eyes staring back at him.

"**Dallas 13, online!**" she declared in a completely robotic voice. Sid's expression dropped to one of shock.

"WHAT?" shouted the mercenary and then Houston's eyes took on a malicious glare and she backhanded him hard across the face causing him to collapse to the ground. The Cyborg then exhibited an equally malicious grin and slowly advanced on him, but her movements became more and more jerky the closer she got to him.

"ALERT, ALERT, OPERATING OUTSIDE NORMAL PARAMETERS!" came Houston's voice once more. The mercenary scrambled to his feet and brandished his shotgun like a club.

"Then reboot!" he ordered of her preparing to swing his rifle at her armband, regardless of the consequences.

"RECOVERY PROTOCOLS ENABLED," began the cyborg as her actions became more and more jerky. "BEGINNING DATA RECOVERY."

Sid relaxed briefly, but still brandished his rifle, ready to go on the offensive if necessary, especially after the Laser Cannon on Houston's Palamino locked onto him. And then Houston's eyes rolled up in the back of her head and she collapsed motionless to the ground and Sid had no choice but to attend to her as more dust rose from the road as unseen, Convoy's Moth Truck and Chassey's Rattler headed for the Premium Fruit Co. Headquarters.

Sacramento, California: In contrast to the burning ruins of Las Vegas, Sacramento was still relatively intact. Not that any of that mattered to Numbers Eight and Seven who were in a non-descript high rise building that was secretly an OMAR facility that housed a data server that coordinated OMAR's efforts across the North American continent. The Americans were clueless that it was there and that was why it benefitted OMAR so much to have it in such a hostile territory.

And was also why it was imperative that it remain so. These new arrivals troubled the entire OMAR Board, which was why they had done the unthinkable and allowed the in-person meeting of two of their board members, Seven and Eight, to deal with this threat personally. The Board Members had not seen each other in the flesh since OMAR was founded and seized control of the majority of the world's oil supply and it spoke to the graveness of their situation that they were meeting now, all those years later.

"Anything?" asked Seven curious as Eight finished up a telephone call. The other OMAR Executive nodded their head.

"Photos from the SR-71 confirm the presence of the three vehicles that attacked the Mexico Facility are now crossing California headed down I-50 towards us," the OMAR executive revealed.

"That means they'll be here within an hour," Seven pointed out, as they drank their coffee before narrowing their eyes at Eight's nervous expression. "What happened?"

"We can't confirm this without access to her programming, but they also appear to have remote hacked Houston 3," Eight stated as the color drained from Seven's face. "Thankfully Sid Burn is no fool and managed to get her to hard reboot, but we can only guess what condition her systems are in now."

"But I designed her security subroutines, just like…," began Seven softly before turning to look behind them at the rows and rows of computer servers.

"I wouldn't worry about it," said Eight with a reassuring grin as they placed their hand on Seven's shoulder. "Mexico was designed to withstand a conventional army, but this was place was designed with security from the most advanced technology the world over, from secret warehouses and research facilities from around the world. It will do the job."

"It'd better," Seven swore. "Because I'm betting the technology we found primarily came from the same place they did. And if it doesn't stop them…"

"It will," Eight promised, crossing their arms. "I am one hundred percent guaranteed of that fact."

A brief moment of silence followed that as both looked off at the horizon and the rising sun.

"And what do you figure are the odds that this little fight might attract the attention of the Coyotes and the Vigilantes?" asked Seven bluntly. Eight had no response for that.

Site 4: The General was standing with several scientists in another stark white room on the base and was currently looking at an individual clad entirely in an equally white spacesuit and helmet with reflective surface.

"_This_ is your solution for finding our wayward alien?" asked the General in bewildered shock. The lead scientist nodded his head.

"It was the best we could come up with on short notice, but it's actually a very promising one," the scientist pointed out as the general felt a headache coming on. "We can't spare any base personnel because they're all needed here to repair and defend the base. And we also have to account for the possibility that recovering the alien could take some time. In this environment, I think we have to admit that sending anyone here would end in failure, but with the indoctrination programs already in effect, this candidate is our best hope."

The general's headache began to lessen as the scientist did make good points. Sending this candidate was the only option they had.

"Plus he's the only one who can fit in the lunar rover," said the scientist laughing nervously at the nearby eight-wheeled vehicle with solar panels and driver's cabin that had two dangerous looking metal pincers on the front. "Course, he's also the only one trained to operate it…"

The headache was starting to flare again as the general rubbed his forehead.

"And what is the name of our brave volunteer?" asked the general, desperate to get this conversation over with.

"Astronaut Bob O., sir!" said the scientist cheerily. Now the headache turned into a migraine, before the general thrust out his hands spread them apart as if to wave away his issues with this idea.

"Good luck Astronaut O., your country is counting on you," the general said sincerely as he saluted.

"Main engines, start!" declared Bob O. as he returned the salute. The general looked at the scientist wide-eyed before turning and leaving the room as the scientist led the volunteer to his lunar rover and upon making sure the astronaut was properly secure, opened the nearby bay door, and soon the astronaut was on his way in the most advanced moon buggy in the world looking for his quarry, 'Y' the Alien.

Mojave Desert: At a lone gas station, a bored attendant fanned himself as he watched the daily news talk about the current state of affairs across the country along with speculation about things abroad. It was rare that a television signal came through these days, the radio was the primary means of learning about the outside, and so the worker sat engrossed in the images being displayed of riots and the attempts by officials to get things back under control. Things were getting progressively worse the farther one went to the interior of the country, aside from the occasional bright spot here and there, and the attendant was grateful he was near the border of California and away from the chaos gripping Las Vegas.

_Whoop…Whoop…Whoop_

The sounds of a strange vehicle approaching the pumps caught the attendant's attention as he lazily glanced outside as a shiny UFO parked next to them and a green and gray alien exited the vehicle and produced a forked device that it jammed into the side of the vehicle and subsequently took the unleaded, premium, and diesel fuel nozzles and stuck them into the other end. The alien then produced a handheld device and pressed a button on it and the pumps subsequently started dispensing fuel before the attendant could even press his button to let them do so. The alien then took a squeegee and briefly washed the front of his vehicle before heading into the store.

The attendant lazily watched the alien grab a basket and started filling it with various bags of chips and junk food before noticing the TV and coming to a stop next to it and watched intently.

"Reports are coming in today about a recent attack on an OMAR Compound in Mexico City…," the reporter drawled on as some blurry images of explosions filled the screen.

"Yeah, it's crazy out there," the attendant commented. "Lately reports are coming in about an outbreak of vehicular warfare all across the Southwest and some think OMAR might be involved."

The alien briefly listened to this, noting the name OMAR in particular, before he and the attendant resumed watching the TV for several more moments before another story came on and the alien resumed filling its basket before placing it on a nearby shelf and grabbing a hold of the payphone handset and holding it to the side of its head as it listened to the dial tone. It looked up at the coin slots on the phone and then pressed a button on his padd and a crisp dollar bill shot out. It then looked back at the attendant and held up the dollar at him and then placed it on a nearby shelf as the attendant flipped him four quarters. The alien then unscrewed both of the ends of the phone and then placed the receiver on the padd and placed the first quarter into the machine.

Instantly the lights began flickering across the room and the pump gauges began acting erratic.

"Hey, we have a policy against customers causing damage to the store," the attendant pointed out as the TV image went on and off. The alien gave a brief smirk at that before producing a wand-like device from its satchel and aimed it at the TV and the image and audio instantly stabilized and became much clearer than it had been before.

"Ah, that's better," said the attendant calming down as they returned their attention to the screen. The alien too returned its attention to the padd and began pressing buttons on it as it interpreted the results being displayed. After a few moments of that, the alien lifted up the receiver and tucked the padd under one arm before screwing the ends of the phone back on and placing it back on its holder before heading to the counter.

"Find what you were looking for?" asked the attendant as the alien nodded in the affirmative. As the attendant began ringing up the contents of the basket, the pumps stopped outside, and that too was added to the total.

"$240," came the attendant's response. Gasoline was easily $7/gallon in most places and perishable goods even more expensive. The attendant was just grateful that his station had both and had somehow managed to escape the notice of the roving armalite gangs on the interstates where the remaining truck stops were their own fortresses.

The alien for his part silently pressed some buttons on his padd and the resulting combination of crisp dollar bills emerged from a slot on the device which he then handed to the attendant.

"Is this legit?" the man had to ask as he held the money up to the now stabilized lights. The alien didn't respond, just narrowed its eyes at the man, but the money's authenticity held up and so the attendant put all the goods into a plastic bag and handed it to the creature. The alien set it on the ground and then held up his padd that showed a map of the western seaboard and one glowing dot in particular and three smaller dots heading towards it.

"That's Sacramento," the attendant answered, somewhat impressed at the display. "It's not really an important place, I'd say."

"But it will be, very soon," the alien finally spoke and subsequently left for his saucer and was gone from sight, headed to the northwest. And all the attendant could think was about how that had been the nicest customer he'd seen in the last week.

Sacramento: The motorcycle-like vehicle, advanced model Palamino, and Excelsior Stretch Limousine pulled into the outskirts of the city and headed straight towards the downtown area. Shortly thereafter, Convoy's Moth Truck and Chassey's Rattler rolled in as well and after a few more minutes had passed, Sid Burn's Manta and Houston 3's Palamino arrived.

"This isn't good," said Seven beginning to sweat bricks as he read the reports from their scouts in the city. "This had to be a calculated effort on their part to not only derail our efforts here in the US, but also in the entire continent."

"I disagree," Eight responded, though he too was a little emotionally wracked. "They could've sabotaged Sid Burn's efforts a lot worse than they did, but Houston is back up and running, so I'd say their actions regarding our current operation are purely coincidental."

"For all the connotations that implies," said Seven disgusted. "Three was right all along and I hate him for it."

"Me too," said Eight angrily. "But they'll be in for a surprise when they finally do make their move."

Eight then turned and left the room as Seven continued to stare out the window. On a nearby parking garage, a man in a suit minus the jacket sat on the hood of his black and white car enjoying some yogurt as he watched the OMAR building while occasionally consulting his watch, evidently awaiting the same thing those in the building were.

Bacon Slab, Utah: At the Anasazi Sandworx Co., various heavy equipment vehicles rolled from one place to the next as workers bustled about the place readying shipments to be sent out across the country. Outside the main building, John and Slick were leaning against their vehicles staring at a billboard reading: '_Sand! What did you do with it today?_'

"Who in their right mind would knock off of a sand company?" asked Slick abruptly breaking into John's thoughts. "This is the stupidest…ugh!"

The playboy threw up his arms in disgust before becoming silent again. John just laughed at that as he did with most of the playboy's outbursts.

"I can think of several practical applications for sand," the scientist shot back. "But I think the most important one is that they didn't kick us out and let us sleep in the workers quarters."

"I hear that," Slick reluctantly agreed as he took a sip of water from his thermos. Once again John's skills came in handy by helping the resident scientists with a new formula for tire sealant and after a long talk with the CEO of the place about what was headed their way, he had allowed them to stay for now.

"John," said Slick in all seriousness.

"Yeah?" asked the scientist solemnly, knowing what he was about to say.

"**No mercy**," the playboy declared darkly as lightning bolts seemed to flicker in his darkened eyes.

"No mercy," repeated John in the affirmative, while wondering to what extent that meant in Slick's eyes. He'd just have to find out when the Coyotes made their move. But until then, he had more work to do with the scientists as Slick got into his vehicle and left to do a sweep of the perimeter.

Sacramento: Nighttime fell on the city as each side of the auto wars prepared for sleep. Sid was down in the bar of the hotel he was staying in and was completely wasted as he thought about the state Houston was now in. Ever since rebooting, she had seemingly become less robotic in nature and that disturbed him even more than her being a robot. Right now she was asleep in one of the beds in the hotel room and that had prompted him to get plastered earlier than usual. He wished John was here to tell him what was up with her, but so far the scientist hadn't fallen off his self-righteous pedestal and it was beginning to annoy him as time went on. And so he continued drinking his thoughts away as usual, wishing he could hurry and finish this job and move on.

At a motel on the outskirts of town, Convoy sat on the back of his truck looking up at the night stars and thinking of Sheila and just what he'd do with her once the auto wars were over. Chassey meanwhile was covered in oil and surrounded by auto parts as she worked hard on her engine trying to get it back into shape from all the damage her car had taken. She was hard at work this late at night to avoid her own thoughts about what she'd be doing once the wars were over. Hollywood was just down the road, maybe she'd have better luck there than trying to hoof it back to D.C. and whatever state the Bureau was now in. But she didn't have time to be thinking about that now and went back to her work on the one thing that brought her peace, her Rattler.

In the OMAR Building, Seven and Eight were having a heated discussion about the apparent hacking of a prototype US Government GPS Satellite from somewhere on the border of California and Arizona and the intensive scans it had taken of the Sacramento area.

And in a lone hotel room an older man stood at his window staring out at the city and the OMAR building in particular. On one of the twin beds in the room, a younger Asian woman sat sharpening her katana as she watched him stare out the window.

"Keiko?" he asked finally. The woman stopped her sharpening and looked at the older man with her striking blue eyes.

"Yes, father?" she inquired curiously.

"**No mercy**," he declared as he turned towards her with a sly grin and pure evil in his eyes. The woman briefly smirked back as she sliced her sharpened katana through the air and listened to the 'swishh' it made.

"No mercy," she repeated in the affirmative and then sheathed her katana and placed it under her pillows and soon was asleep. The older man then briefly returned his attention to the window and the OMAR building as a sense of nostalgia filled his eyes before taking his cane and pointing the top with the crystal on it towards the building as electricity sparked off of it. After a brief moment of that, he once more lowered the cane and retreated to his own bed.

Nighttime fell on Sacramento.


	13. Confrontations

New Mexico: Dave groggily sat up in his sleeping bag and yawned loudly as he got up and made for the nearest tree. After finishing his business there and washing up, he went over to the fire pit and got it going again and soon Sheila was awake as well

"What's cookin' good lookin'?" she asked lightly at the pot he was now boiling.

"Ramen!" said the hippie with a smile as he lifted his wooden ladle with noodles dripping off of it.

"Blech!" said the teenager sticking out her tongue. "It's too early in the morning for that stuff. Got anything else on the menu?"

The hippie reached into his nearby sack and produced a can that he tossed to her. "Well you could have watered down soup…"

"No thanks," she said, setting the can down. Some more rummaging produced a potato that he also tossed to her.

"No thanks, 'spud'," she stated while looking at the potato and Dave. "C'mon, where's the good stuff?"

"Well…," said Dave reluctantly as a half-hearted smile appeared on his face. Sheila perked up at that.

"What've you got big brother?" she said, her mouth drooling in anticipation. The hippie's grin broke out even wider as he retrieved a small silver package from his jacket pocket and held it up in tantalizingly in front of the teenager.

"It can't be," she said in hushed awe. The hippie vigorously nodded his head in the affirmative.

"One strawberry toaster pastry, still in mint condition," he said laughing hard as Sheila's jaw dropped at the sight of her favorite breakfast snack in the whole world.

"Where did you find one of those, I haven't seen one in at least a year!" she exclaimed. Dave nodded.

"I was just in the right place at the right time and knowing you, I couldn't pass up the opportunity to get my hands on it," he said, leaving the details a mystery. "Course, I was planning on saving it for a special occasion…"

Sheila's single mindedness about needing the pastry softened as she turned reflective at Dave's comments.

"I tell you what," she decided. "I've got some plastic wrap in my car, enough to wrap those two pastries. I'll take one, you take the other, and we toast when this is all over."

"Deal," said Dave, happy with that arrangement as he reached for the ladle. "Now for some delicious ramen…"

Sacramento: Out of the bottom parking garage of one of the hotels, a Manta and Palamino raced out and down the road headed for the interstate. As they passed by the civilians on the side of the road, most paid them no mind, save for glancing at the exterior weaponry, but no more than that. But one older gentleman sitting at a table outside of a café watched them leave with interest before grinning slightly and tipping his glass at them before standing up and walking across the street and into the office building that secretly housed the OMAR servers. The older man walked strode right through the lobby and into the elevator and up to the top floor. Once there, the individual headed straight down the hallway and towards a room at the very end, but before he could knock on the door, the old man was instantly surrounded by armed guards out of all the doors he had just passed.

"Good morning gentlemen," said the older man, obligingly holding up his arms as a big grin spread across his face. "I'm here to see Seven and Eight, they should be expecting me."

The older man was subsequently prodded at gunpoint into the room beyond as the door closed shut behind him.

Anasazi Sandworx Co.: Slick Clyde and John Torque were currently sitting on a bench in the giant pit of the sand works and intently focused on their game of chess. The scientist had been left a little bit at a loss when the fashion model had suggested it, but to his surprise, Slick was an avid player of the game. They had already had two heated games, with each winning one, and were now on their third. Next to them a portable radio was blaring out the news from around the country along with speculation on the rest of the world.

"So what do you make of all of this talk about OMAR in Mexico being knocked off and now the Arizona Base that Sheila and Dave just defended now also getting hit?" asked John as he moved his rook and took one of Slick's pawns.

"Information," responded the playboy truthfully. "Someone needs to amass a lot of information really quickly and that's what they're doing. And apparently they're looking for quite some picture if they're also going after USAF installations."

"You think it's the same individuals?" asked John curiously. Slick nodded his head as he moved one of his pieces.

"OMAR and USAF installations getting attacked isn't a commonplace occurrence," the playboy pointed out. "The time it takes to get from Mexico City to Arizona averaging eighty miles an hour would place those two attacks perfectly."

"Yes, I had a similar thought," the scientist agreed as he briefly waved his hand in front of his face to shoo away a bee. "But do you think this new party is friend or foe?"

"I don't know," Slick confessed as the bee now buzzed him. "But it hardly matters right now."

"And why's that?" asked John, who was then briefly startled as Slick slammed his hand against the wooden table, crushing the bee.

"Because it's game time," he responded, holding up his hand and revealing tiny metal shards and other pieces of a mechanical bee that began briefly throwing off sparks. John Torque nodded his head in agreement and put the board and the pieces away.

"We'll just have to continue this game later," he concluded. Slick nodded with his normal grin as he donned his cowboy hat and slid on his sunglasses.

"I look forward to it, partner," he said in a southern drawl as the two bolted for their vehicles as Beezwax's Stag Pickup and Boogie's Leprechaun poured over the rim of the crater, all weapons firing.

Sacramento: The older man was now handcuffed to a chair as he sat and looked at the darkened images of Seven and Eight.

"YOU PICKED THE WRONG COMPANY TO MESS WITH!" shouted Eight angrily at the man who had a broad smile across his face as he shook his head lightly in bemusement.

"You find this amusing?" asked Seven perplexed. "Because this is no laughing matter. You invaded our Mexico headquarters and killed one of our colleagues and declared war on the most powerful conglomerate this world has ever known."

The older man sighed and shook his head once more, this time in shame.

"You two never could perform a proper interrogation," he lamented. "Three was always better at it than you two."

"And yet you killed him," said Seven coldly. "Why?"

The man shrugged. "Because he had to go for my vision to succeed and I wanted…no, I _needed_ to kill him first for all the trouble he caused me over the years."

The man's smile turned from light hearted to malicious as he stared at the two OMAR Executives without fear.

"Your reign of destruction ends now," Eight repeated confidently. The older man sighed in disgust.

"You may not get it, Eight, but perhaps you should consult with Seven," the man declared icily. "I've already won. You lost the second I showed up."

"I'm not the one handcuffed to a chair and about to be shot," Eight shot back smugly. But although unseen, Seven's complexion began rapidly paling with each comment the stranger made.

"Eight?" asked the man, extremely annoyed at the other's ignorance. "Just stop talking. Your only usefulness is pulling a trigger at a visible target and nothing else. I am just going to talk to Seven from here on out and if you speak again, I will kill you."

Eight was too flabbergasted to mount a response at being talked down to from someone he swore he'd never met before and yet talked to him like they'd known each other for a long time. And so a small part of his smug persona began to experience something he'd not felt in a long time, fear.

"And what do you want from me?" asked Seven in a hushed tone.

"I want you to let me go," said the older man, now more laid back. "And report back to your superiors that my time here is now to go unimpeded by OMAR. I am about to put some very important plans into motion and I don't need your interference."

Seven just sat there helplessly as Eight began visibly fuming over the stranger's statements before turning to Seven, wanting to see what his response would be.

"…I'm sorry but I can't do that," said Seven softly as he stared at his trembling hands. The older man leaned back in his chair and stared at him patiently.

"And why not?" he asked. Seven looked up at him with a grim smile.

"It's like you said, you already won. And in order for you to be here now, that means certain things had to have happened. I may not be able to prevent those things, but I can do my best to make up for them here and now with you," Seven revealed. The older man nodded as Eight was left bewildered at that statement.

"I always did respect you, Seven, even if you did occasionally miss an important detail or two," the man responded with a light smile. Seven looked at him suspiciously.

"Am I missing one now?" he asked. The man nodded his head.

"Yes," came the answer. "I can only presume that you know that I was the one behind the Mexico attack and in order to do that, you'd have to have some photo of my presence there."

"Yes," said Seven agreeably. "I have the photo right here."

The blurry image of the older man, the younger woman, and the other individual wearing the cowboy hat appeared.

"But am I really the person in that photo?" asked the man, a question that chilled Seven to the bone.

"Of course you are," said Eight butting in. "You look the same enough to me."

The older man turned to face the OMAR Executive. "But you're missing one important detail."

Seven began rapidly scrutinizing the photo once more as Eight began loading bullets into his handgun…and then Seven saw the difference.

"No…," he responded terrified as the older man's eyes glowed red/orange and his appearance began to become blurry.

"**Where's my cane?**" the individual responded in a dark voice that become more mechanical with each word. Eight then leapt up and shot the individual repeatedly who began laughing darkly as they snapped their hands forward with rapid motion and snapped the chains on the handcuffs and stood up. The guards promptly opened fire as the individual stood up and the image of the man blurred completely and a new individual appeared in its place with glowing red-orange eyes.

"Holy Sh-!" began Numbers Seven and Eight as the individual began grabbing guards left and right and throwing them across the room as more and more bullets were fired at it. After a few moments of that, every guard was either incapacitated or worse and Seven and Eight were the only ones left standing, their mouths wide open in shock.

"B-but if you were not who we thought you were, then why this charade?" asked Seven, completely helpless. Eight's expression turned into a scowl as he glared at the person across the room.

"It was all a diversion," he realized. "It was a delaying tactic to prevent us from realizing their real goal, the plundering of our data servers."

"Very good, Eight, I knew you weren't completely beyond hope," said a familiar voice from the doorway. Seven and Eight abruptly jerked their heads towards the voice as the older man whom they thought had been in the chair, this time with his crystal topped cane, stood leaning against the frame. The man then walked and stood next to his companion as a woman in a blue jumpsuit and katana at the ready stood on the other side.

"**So you're the mastermind behind all this**," commented Eight darkly. The older man nodded as he produced a cowboy hat and gave it to his companion who put it on.

"Yes, I am, and may I say that I have looked forward to seeing you two again for a long time," the man said with a broad grin. "I just wish I could stay longer and chat, but I have things to accomplish."

Eight pulled out his gun and aimed it at the older man who looked at the weapon and laughed.

"Goodbye Eight, don't do anything stupid until we meet again. And Seven, please don't kill yourself over this," said the man as he snapped his fingers.

_CRASSSSHHHHHHHHHHHH!_

A blinding flash and an invisible shockwave abruptly tore through the room as glass, wood, furniture, and windows exploded raining pieces everywhere and Seven and Eight covered their faces for protection. Once the shower had ended, a strange noise greeted their ears and both looked up to see an Excelsior Stretch Limousine facing them with its weaponry as nearby sat a Palamino-like vehicle and another strangle motorcycle-contraption. The three individuals made for their vehicles and were about to step in when Seven spoke once more.

"Why are you here?" he had to know. The older man smiled again as if putting on the face of a family uncle, before he began glaring daggers at them. And then he said why he was there and Seven and Eight turned white as sheet. And then just as abruptly as they appeared, the vehicles disappeared in a blinding flash, but left in their wake was a single Roadkill Mine, and the two OMAR Executives ran as fast as they could as the room exploded into a fireball.

Hexagon Oil Facilities, New Mexico: "Oil, oil, everywhere, but not a drop to guzzle," commented Sheila off-hand. The two were in a desert full of cacti and other assorted plans as in the distance, smoke and flames could be seen rising from numerous smokestacks at the facility. Dave didn't respond; he was busy working on his sensor equipment where a blurry image confronted him.

"Dave, are you still working on that?" asked the teenager frustrated, as she was sitting on the ground and leaning on the van's rear bumper. She then craned her head back so she was looking at his upside down image.

"I have to know what was up there above that USAF facility," he responded. The flying saucer had snapped an image amongst the firefight, but part of its electronics had gotten shorted out and so Dave was trying to clean up the picture as best he could, pixel by pixel.

"Well if it wasn't a bird or a plane then it must've been…," Sheila said dryly. Dave sighed heavily at that but didn't rise to the bait.

"Look if it's that important to you then at least tell me why," the teenager asked desperately. Dave shook his head.

"Not until I know for sure," he swore. "And I can't say anything more than that, for both our sakes."

"Dave, I'm telling you, whatever's out there, we can confront it together!" Sheila reprimanded. "You and me, we can do anything!"

"Yes, but can we fight the future?" Dave snapped.

"WHAT?" shouted Sheila bewildered. Dave waved it off.

"Never mind, I've said too much already," and then he shooed her away and slammed the doors shut on his van leaving the teenager fuming.

"Fine, be that way," she declared angrily and headed for her vehicle.

Kuwait: The OMAR Executives were now down to ten and looking all the more worse for wear, regardless of their disguised visages. On the screen above Number One flashed images of the destroyed conference room in the Sacramento Building.

"So in summation, nearest as we can tell they downloaded the contents of all the servers in an incredibly short period of time," Nine was reporting. "As for Seven and Eight, they're now in stable condition, but it was touch and go there for a little while."

"That's odd, why would they leave two OMAR Executives alive?" Four wondered aloud.

"Nearest as I can tell, their objective wasn't to destroy our facility in Sacramento, it was just to scare us," Nine figured. "After all, the servers are still intact and the conference room can be easily repaired and the local authorities paid off to not investigate further into what's in those rooms. Seven and Eight's condition was just a message, nothing more."

"Saying what?" asked Eleven. Nine shrugged.

"Based on Seven's delirious testimony, that they can get us whenever or wherever they want, but for right now they just want to be left alone," was the only response Nine could give.

"But that's not an option!" shouted Two. "They've beaten us twice already and I'm not going to see us defeated for a third."

"Nor do any of us, but I don't know what other choices we have at the moment," said Nine at a loss. One finally had had enough.

"What we do is analyze every square millimeter of that room and compile all the data we have from Sacramento and Mexico and we do not rest until we have some way of tracking those who are doing this to us!" One barked and then their image went dark. The other looked around at each other uncertainly before their images too winked off one by one as each tried to use their own avenues to discover what had happened to Seven and Eight.

Sacramento: OMAR repair crews were already at work fixing the top level of the building. But across the way, at a nearby parking garage, a man in a suit was busy going through readings and other pieces of evidence that he had confiscated from the building before the crews had had time to arrive. As he went through each item on the hood of his car, he summarily sealed all of it in different plastic bags.

"_I wonder why he was using a contemporary roadkill mine_," the agent wondered as he sealed up the remains of mine. "_A regular one could have leveled the entire building_."

The agent was so wrapped up in his work that he failed to hear the sounds of footsteps approaching him until the last second. As soon as he did, the agent pulled out a gun and aimed it at the individual, only to be taken aback by the appearance of a short green and gray alien who was holding a laser rifle at him. After a few tense moments of that, each slowly lowered their weapons until they stood facing each other.

"**You shouldn't be here**," the alien commented darkly.

"I know. And secretly, I was wondering if our little jaunts here would attract outside attention. I'm guessing that'd be you," admitted the agent resignedly. The alien made no motion to agree or disagree, but it did pointedly look at the evidence he had collected.

"If it means anything to you, I'm trying to stop them, but it hasn't been easy. Their actions make no sense whatsoever," the agent responded despondently as they leaned over the evidence as the alien walked up one of the wheel wells and now stood on the hood. It soon began sorting through the evidence as the agent stood, content to watch.

"The mess I'm into now is that despite all the chaos he's causing, he hasn't technically made a move for control yet. Until he does that, my hands are tied," said the agent as he held out his hands helplessly. The look of anger the alien's eyes as they shifted to stare at the agent caused him to involuntarily back up a step.

"**If you don't stop them, then I'll stop **_**you**_** and then I'll stop **_**them**_," the alien swore. It took one last look over the evidence and then took one bag in particular and promptly hopped off the vehicle and silently retreated to the shadows. The agent watched it go, briefly wondering if he should have asked the creature for help, but decided that its mind was already made up. Returning to the evidence, the agent began dictating more observations into his recorder when the sound of footsteps returning was heard.

"So what brings you-," began the agent turning around, expecting the alien.

_SWISH_

The agent suddenly found a katana blade pressed to his throat from a blue-suited woman as the older man who had raided the OMAR facilities stepped into the light from behind her as behind him, the individual with the orange-red eyes and cowboy hat stood solemnly farther back, both hands on the guns resting in their hip holsters.

"Hello agent, lovely day isn't it?" the man observed. The agent looked down at the blade hesitantly before a grin broke out across his face.

"Yeah, I'd say it is," he agreed cheerfully. "From what I heard, she isn't known to make footsteps when pursuing her target."

The older man laughed at that.

"_She_ doesn't," he promised as a maniacal grin broke out across his face. "I made those footsteps for _your_ sake."

The agent nodded as best he could with the blade pressed against it as the older man reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved his badge ID.

"Then why am I still alive?" the agent had to ask. The larger individual with the cowboy hat now approached the man as the blade seemed to lessen its push against his throat.

"Because Agent Chase," the older man explained, looking at the badge and then at him. "We have so _much_ to talk about."

The cowboy grabbed the agent by the hands and forced them behind his back as the woman put her katana away as the trio then escorted the man from his vehicle and into the nearby Excelsior Stretch Limousine.

San Juan Valley: The sun was shining brightly over the acres and acres of fruit-bearing trees as birds sang happily to the entire farm. The farmhands went out to go work and began picking the fruits off the branches as others went about servicing the farm equipment and the wind turbines that helped power the place and thus reduce their need for fossil fuels. On a nearby dirt road leading to the farm, Sid Burn sat on the hood of his vehicle eating an apple as he watched the workers through the trees.

"You ready," he asked of Houston who had adopted a more human gesture of leaning to the side with her arms crossed since she had rebooted.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asked curiously in a very human voice. Sid just shook his head, not sure what to make of her anymore, but was just glad that she was still willing to do the job they were assigned to do.

"Let's go," he ordered as he chucked the apple away and got into his vehicle and soon the two raced towards the farm and opened fire with their mosquito guns as across the farm, Convoy's Moth Truck and Chassey's Rattler also began firing on their opponents.


	14. The Choices We Make

Sacramento: Agent R. Chase of the Central Intelligence Agency's Chronopol Division sat with a blindfold over his eyes. He felt the bumps in the road as the limousine apparently made its way down the road and listened to the sound of the vehicle's engine and made numerous calculations in his head about the possible situations he'd find himself in once they stopped. But before he could seriously consider his options, the limousine came to a halt, the blindfold removed and the agent was summarily shoved out into the light. Chase barely stayed on his feet as the limousine roared off, leaving him near a busy intersection in Sacramento. Looking around suspiciously, he promptly noted the older man from before sitting at the outside seating area of a restaurant and the man also noticed the agent and waved him over. The agent scowled briefly at this situation before walking over and taking a seat.

"Greeting Agent Chase," said the older man amicably. "I hope you don't mind, but I thought this was a better place to talk than that parking garage."

Chase looked around at the other patrons of the restaurant before returning his attention to the older man, an unasked question clearly on his mind.

"We're still in the same place, just a few blocks removed," the man answered as the waiter appeared and he made his order. "Did you want anything? The seafood here is some of the best in the region."

The CIA Agent shook his head, but did order water and the waiter left to fulfill their orders. The older man then reproduced Chase's CIA badge and slid it across the table where the agent gratefully picked it up and put it away.

"Why here, why now?" asked Chase bluntly. The man grinned at that as he took a breadstick and began chewing on it thoughtfully.

"Maybe because right now OMAR is collectively at its weakest with its operations here in America consuming its precious time and resources," he answered. "They are so distracted right now that it gives me an advantage in that as much as they would like to concentrate the entirety of their attention and resources to me, they simply cannot."

"Interesting," said Chase lightly as he leaned back in his chair. "And here I thought you primarily came back to see _her_."

The older man's expression darkened slightly at that as his hand tightened on the breadstick for a moment, but then the moment passed.

"I don't get nostalgic," the older man responded frankly. "The past is the past, I can't change that. Instead, I can only live with it and the choices I've made. Choices I have no regrets about."

"Really?" responded Chase, putting on an air of exaggerated disbelief. "Because right now I see a man taking on OMAR _at the exact same time_ as hard working and exhausted vigilantes are across the southwestern United States."

The older man leaned forward as if to share a secret. "Our actions may be the same, but don't mistake my goals as being the same as theirs. I am doing what I am doing to further my own ends and no one else's. If you think otherwise, then you're more of a fool than I originally took you for."

"**I'm no fool**," Chase shot back darkly as he straightened up in his chair. "I followed your actions for years back home and will continue to do so here. I will stop you, don't forget that."

The older man leaned back in his seat comfortably with a mild grin on his face. "You are more than welcome to try."

The agent regarded the older man curiously after that statement. "You're still not going to kill me?" he asked, at a loss.

"No," responded the older man as if that should be obvious. "Not yet, anyway. Go home, collect your thoughts, collect your resources, and then come back and try and stop me. You're the only one who knows why I'm here, besides myself and my team, and that's why I'm expecting a challenge from you."

The agent figured this was his cue to leave and stood up. "But do I even have a 'home' to go back to?"

The older man nodded. "Yes. Everything I've done has been precisely calculated so as not to cause too many disruptions. Some small things may have changed, but nothing too major. So go home, and get ready. I have two last things to do here and then I am headed home myself to prepare as well."

The agent turned to go before he felt the urge to say one final thing. "She wouldn't want you to do this, slick."

The older man gazed intently at him before looking straight off into the distance. "Goodbye, Agent R. Chase. Your vehicle has been moved from the garage and is now on the outskirts of town, I trust your PDA should help you find it."

The agent scowled once more and headed off. He was not very happy with how the conversation had gone, but he knew that going in. So instead he walked along the road wondering deeply what his next move would be. He couldn't go home, yet, he had to wait for his adversaries to leave first, but the question was now what he would do until then. After a few moments of walking and riding the bus, he finally reached his vehicle, the Chrono Stinger, which unsurprisingly no longer had any of the evidence he'd collected earlier.

"Ah, this sucks!" he finally shouted and stomped his foot down. Instead of hearing the dirt underneath his feet become unsettled, he instead heard a metal clang. Sharply looking down, the CIA Agent quickly unearthed a sign that read: 'Premium Fruit Works Co., San Juan Valley, California'. The mention of this facility caused an idea to worm its way through the agent's head. An idea that his mind was telling him he should ignore, but something his heart was telling him otherwise.

"_If he can change things, then so can I!_" the agent decided angrily. And so he threw the sign into the passenger seat of his vehicle and slammed his foot on the accelerator as the car leapt off down the road towards the farms in the distance, where smoke could be seen slowly lifting above the horizon.

Premium Fruit Works Co.: Chassey's Rattler crested a hill and narrowly avoided the large blade from a nearby wind turbine that lodged itself just behind her. The battle had been a fast and furious one and it was only intensifying as Sid Burn sought to burn the entire farm to the ground and didn't care if anyone got in his way.

"Convoy, we need a new plan," Chassey said over the radio after much deliberation. Laser blasts now tore through the rows of trees that she was driving past and applesauce smacked against her windshield as a result. She had barely used her windshield wipers to clean them off when she hit a nearby stone bridge and went airborne.

Further away, Convoy avoided a barrage of Interceptor Missiles that ripped up the dirt road he was on and further demolished a nearby biplane and covered wagon. The trucker was drenched in sweat and desperately trying to hold onto the wheel as Sid Burn's Manta came hurtling out of the top level of a barn and came crashing down beside him.

"Is it getting hot in here?" asked the mercenary with a laugh as his Molotov Cannon trained itself on the trucker's vehicle.

"No…chance," the trucker grunted out as he slammed his vehicle into the smaller one and the Manta spun out and the resulting napalm shot went wide and straight into the irrigation canals where it fizzled out into steam.

"I think I have an idea," responded the trucker to Chassey as a grin spread across his face and he jerked the wheel in the direction of the pump house as Sid's vehicle roared to life and once more gave chase.

Anasazi Sandworx Co.: A sky hammer mortar arced across the red sky and slammed into a very long ramp leading partway over the sandpit and broke it into pieces as Slick's Clydesdale leapt off at the last second and successfully landed on the ramp facing it. He raced down the side as more Bullseye rockets peppered the area from Boogie's Leprechaun as it moved up a dirt ramp towards him.

Down below, John Torque had his hands full from Beezwax's swarm of mechanical bees that were harassing his vehicle.

"You doing okay down there, John?" asked Slick curiously from above as his vehicle was now on a ridge driving parallel to the scientist.

"Sort of," came John's response. "I'm just at a loss as to how Beezwax could have managed to creature miniature bees that could be directed at a target."

"Maybe he found something at Site 4," Slick reasoned as he dropped a roadkill mine that exploded in front of Boogie's car.

"Perhaps, but the technology to do something like that could only come from the…," began John before the loud noise of buzzing could be heard covering up his words.

"John?" asked Slick a little concerned as the vehicle became entirely surrounded by bees. And then a bassquake blast rocketed through area, scattering the bees, and shaking the ground resulting in Slick's Clydesdale going over the edge and driving next to the Jefferson.

"I'm alright," said John in a little bit of pain. "But I need to get rid of these annoying bees."

"No problem, I'll take care of it," promised Slick as he pulled away from the Jefferson.

"Where are you going?" asked John confused. Nearby, Beezwax's Stag Pickup appeared briefly between two mounds of sand before disappearing again.

"You want the bees gone, you destroy the queen," the playboy responded frankly. And then Vigilante vanished from sight at it pursued the Coyote.

Hexagon Oil Facility: An oil well exploded throwing flames high into the nighttime air as fires raged across the facility. Dave's van and Sheila's Strider rocketed through them as a Scatter Missile arced through the air and exploded raining bombs everywhere.

"Sheila, I need you to fire your tantrum gun in a 360 degree arc in about three minutes," ordered Dave as he narrowly avoided a bruiser cannon shot from Molo's Bus as it sped by. But Dave didn't get a response, although his sensors clearly indicated that Sheila was still riding around and taking on Loki's Glen 4x4.

"Sheila?" asked Dave concerned. Several more moments passed with still nothing.

"She-."

"I'm not talking to you until you tell me what's really going on," came the bitter response. Dave groaned loudly at that.

"Is this really the time to be having this conversation?" he asked as his tiny flying saucers rocketed overhead and slammed into Molo's bus as it raced out of a nearby patch of smoke.

"If we don't have it now, we won't be having it later. And don't bother trying to help me or have me help you until you tell me," Sheila answered as her tantrum gun opened fire on Loki's 4x4 that just barely managed to stay ahead of its steady stream of fire.

"Sheila, I-," began Dave helplessly as Loki's cannons ripped up the ground all around her as the Strider ducked amongst some metal piping for safety before it too erupted into flames.

"Now, Dave!" she shouted as her vehicle ran parallel to his. "WHAT ARE YOU SO AFRAID OF?"

"I'M AFRAID OF THE FUTURE!" he finally shouted back as Molo's bus raced past them with his smog check in full effect as both vehicles instantly stalled on the black smoke. "I'm afraid of the future."

"Oh, Dave," said Sheila pityingly. "We're all afraid of the future. But if we stick together and do the right thing, then we have nothing to fear."

"I wish it was only that simple," responded Dave knowingly. But the present was where they were now and they were surrounded by Loki and Molo and were low on gas and ammunition.

"Well now prisoners, any last words?" asked Molo mockingly as he laughed at their predicament. Dave and Sheila looked at each other helplessly before Dave mouthed 'I'm sorry' and all Sheila could do was nod her head and respond with 'I am too'.

"Well?" asked Molo smugly. "Surely you must have something?"

Dave reached for his radio and held it to his mouth and was about to say something when suddenly it crackled to life on its own.

"**CANNON**," declared an angry voice that no one recognized save one. Loki's eyes bugged out for the first time in a long time as his Glenn tore off away from the group as in the distance a brief flash was seen.

And then a crimson laser beam ripped through the air above Dave and Sheila's vehicles and tore Molo's bus in half. Sheila and Dave could only watched stunned at this turn of events as a shell shocked Molo stumbled out of the front half of the vehicle and immediately collapsed in shock.

"What the f-," began Sheila when an ethereal bright light washed over the two vehicles, nearly blinding the two drivers who had to hold up their hands to shield their eyes. And then the light dimmed and from it appeared a silver flying saucer and in front of it, a lone occupant walked towards them. It passed the unconscious form of Molo without a second glance as Dave and Sheila exited their vehicles and approached it as if in a trance. But Sheila slowly came to her senses and realized that this was a moment Dave had waited his whole life for and that she shouldn't intrude.

And so she hung back and secretly and sadly chided herself on her selfishness from earlier as the alien and Dave stood facing each other.

"Hello," said Dave weakly holding up a hand. The alien looked at him with an unreadable expression. "If it means anything, I know why you're really here."

"Yes, I know," the alien responded. "That's why we need to talk, alone."

The alien reached into its satchel and produced its datapad and aimed it back at its vehicle.

"_Have fun, Dave_," thought Sheila, words she couldn't allow herself to express out loud.

"Wait," Dave called out to the alien who paused briefly. "Whatever you have to say to me you can also say to Sheila."

The alien's expression turned dour at that as Sheila's brightened, before the alien reluctantly nodded its head and pressed the button on its padd as all three and their vehicles vanished in a bright light. Moments later, what remained of the local law enforcement descended on the oil facility and apprehended the still unconscious Molo.

Anasazi Sandworx: Slick was chasing after Beezwax with all guns firing as John was again pursued by the robotic bees and Boogie's Leprechaun. Or so everyone assumed, there was enough sand in the air to make it harder to see further than ten feet.

"Having any luck?" asked John hopeful as his vehicle briefly spun motionless in a sand trap before getting free.

"No, I think this sand is somehow clogging my air intake valve and wreaking havoc on my axels," was the response from the playboy. "It's getting hard to drive as this goes on."

"I know, but I don't know what else we can do," responded John.

"Well I kind of have an idea," was Slick's reluctant response to that after a couple moments silence. But then he divulged no further details.

"You gonna tell me what it is, or do I have to guess?" was the scientist's answer as he pulled the wheel sharply to avoid colliding with a vehicle elevator that appeared out of nowhere.

"Well okay," responded the playboy after another moment's pause. And then he explained what his idea was.

"Are you nuts?" shouted John in disbelief. "You can't do that!"

"Why not?" shot back Slick in mild anger as his vehicle narrowly avoided plowing into the back of Beezwax's camper.

"Well first of all it's incredibly dangerous and second of all, it might kill somebody!" John shouted and then before Slick could respond, he finished with. "Most like us!"

"I suppose," Slick conceded as his lightning rod began powering up. "But it'd get the job done here. And they don't seem as concerned with our welfare as we are of them. So to that I say: no mer…."

"All the same, us keeping them alive is what separates us from them!" John responded desperately. "Believe me, I know because I'm not still sure what I'll do if I end up facing Sid Burn again. But right here, right now, we cannot afford to lose our souls, Convoy taught me that much."

"I don't know," said Slick doubtful. "But for your sake, I'll hold off for now, but if this battle keeps going on in a stalemate, I will end it."

John breathed a collective sigh of relief as the lightning rod on Slick's vehicle powered down and the vehicle vanished once more into the sandstorm.

"You're a good man, Slick," John felt he had to say to sate the playboy's inner turmoil.

"Is it wrong that I sometimes wish I wasn't?" was the frank response as Slick sighed heavily. "Well, as Chassey would say, let's get on the mission, hmm?"

"Right on," came John's response as his car leapt once more into the fray as light began to glint off of Boogie's newly deployed disco ball.

Premium Fruit Works Co.: "Oh, Convoy, I don't like this plan!" shouted Chassey as her and Houston's vehicles tore down the irrigation ducts while a wall of water pursued them.

"Well it's too late now!" the trucker shot back as he was fighting Sid Burn on the raised ground at the end of the ditch. "Besides, I didn't tell you to go into the drink!"

"Well obviously I hadn't planed to, but then again I guess Houston didn't either," Chassey figured as the sides of two cars grinded against other, throwing sparks.

"Do you think you can manage?" asked Convoy as he fired off another round from his bruiser cannon at Sid.

"…No," confessed Chassey desperately as the wall of water got ever closer. Convoy sighed and then nodded his head.

"I'll help you out," he promised. And then a lone interceptor missile flew from the side of his truck aimed at Chassey's Rattler.

"CONVOY ARE YOU CRAZY?" shouted Chassey as she looked at her options for avoiding the missile, which were limited at best.

"Just wait for it," was the trucker's response. The missile got closer and closer and then suddenly maneuvered to the side and shot past the two vehicles before performing an arc and was now racing between them.

"Now reach out and touch someone," ordered Convoy before he returned his attention to Sid Burn. Chassey grinned at that as she realized what he had been up to and then shifted her car over so that her empty missile rack latched onto the missile and added its momentum to her own.

"Yeehaw! Here I come, ya hear!" she shouted as her car rocketed forward and away from the Palamino and the oncoming tidal wave and arrived on solid ground next to Convoy's Moth Truck as both faced Sid's Manta.

"Surrender?" inquired Convoy hopeful. Sid's engine roared in response to that.

"Never," was his verbal response as his weapons reloaded and aimed them at the two Vigilantes.

"Well then aren't you at least going to save your teammate?" asked Convoy curious. Sid laughed at that.

"She's a robot, she's expendable," was Sid's response as an evil grin spread across his face. Convoy and Chassey shared a melancholy response to that as both then looked down the viaduct at Houston's vehicle which was just a hair breadth away from being swept up into the water. And although none could see it, Houston 3 had the uncharacteristic look of panic on her face, panic mixed with anger from Sid's verbal response to helping her. On her armband, the lights once more blinking in rapid succession as memories began to flood her synapses. Images of her secretly creating a dummy file in FBI Computer Mainframe, images of her firing off a series of messages to that file, and finally an image of a late stormy night and firing off a message to that dummy file, a message about OMAR's plans for the American Southwest…and the subsequent hacking and reboot on her systems resulting in her subconsciously not choosing to restore several important mental blocking subroutines. Then everything fell into place and she knew what she had to do.

"And you think that you can take us both?" asked Chassey doubtful. Sid nodded his head.

"Let's just say I picked up a new kind of fuel back at Site 4 and it's some pretty potent stuff," the mercenary remarked. "The cars can't run on it, it'd blow the exhaust manifold right out, but it makes for quite an explosive. And it's about to turn you two into a couple of craters."

To emphasize the point, the two cannons on Sid's Molatov Device extended out further and soon began glowing.

"You do realize you'll have to hit us first," Chassey pointed out as she prepared to bolt. The glowing on the cannons got brighter and brighter.

"Not in this ensuing blast," Sid promised. "Goodbye you two, it hasn't been pleasant!"

The cannons were about to fire when a new voice cut in.

"DEATH RAY!" shouted Houston 3, still in the trench. Sid groaned at that.

"While I'm glad you're back to original form, I don't need your he-," he began when suddenly a laser blast ripped through his open window and out the other, nearly tearing off part of his face.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?" shouted Sid at her as the Palamino came roaring out of the ditch and water erupted behind it, spraying the surrounding area and cooling the fires that were consuming it.

"Doing what I should've done a long time ago," came Houston's response. Sid scowled heavily at that and then aimed his cannons at her as steam hissed from the top of his vehicle.

"I agree, there's something I should've done along time ago as well," he pointed out and then fired the dual energy balls at her. They flew out and then slowly dissipated over the long distance before fizzling out entirely before they reached her.

"Advanced fuel or not, water is still water," responded Chassey cheekily as Sid glared at her.

"Perhaps, but the heat will evaporate all water. Which is why I'm out of here and your engines are still flooded," he responded and then reversed backwards and headed off away from the farm.

"Where are you going coward, get back here!" shouted Chassey as his vehicle vanished from sight.

"I'm no coward, but I'm also no fool. You'll dry off eventually but I'll have a new plan by then…a plan that you _won't_ know," laughed Sid maniacally. "See ya later!"

And then his vehicle was gone and the trio exited their vehicles, Chassey and Convoy confronting Houston 3.

"So why the change of heart?" asked Chassey suspiciously. Convoy nodded his agreement, interested in hearing the response.

"More like a change of programming," revealed the cyborg as she pulled back her jacket sleeve revealing the armband and its advanced technology. "I don't remember much, but I get the impression that I was trying to fight the programming in this thing for a long time. That OMAR left me alone for so long and because of various other things going on it allowed me to finally break free. For now at least."

Chassey looked at Convoy who merely shrugged, not sure what to think.

"So you're not totally free of your programming?" the trucker asked. The cyborg shook her head.

"I don't believe so. But for now, I'm going to do everything in my power to right the wrongs I've committed," she swore. "I owe that much to whomever I was before OMAR did this to me."

Chassey and Convoy again had no comment for this, but instead looked up as the sounds of an engine met their ears. The three took up a defensive posture as a new vehicle appeared and stopped before them.

"Hello Chassey Blue, Convoy, and Houston 3, my name is Agent R. Chase of the CIA and I have wanted to meet you three for a long time," said the man who emerged from the vehicle. The three others looked at each other at a loss as a big grin broke out across the man's face.

Anasazi Sandworx Factory: "Nice going, John," said Slick visibly annoyed. The sand and dust that had been stirred up from their fight had now turned into a giant cyclone thanks to Boogie's disco ball and now the two Vigilantes were caught up in its swirling vortex as the two Coyotes were sitting free in the eye of the storm.

"I didn't know this was going to happen!" John protested.

"It wouldn't have happened at all if you'd just let me do what needed to be done!" Slick shouted back as he hit the accelerator in vain as the wheels spun but could gain no purchase on anything. Instead, the Clydesdale continued to be hammered by everything imaginable as it repeatedly whizzed around the vortex. Somewhere else in the vortex was John's Jefferson and each was grateful each time they failed to hit each other in this mess.

"We could easily be dead right now if we'd followed your idea," responded the scientist as he tried working on various ideas to free himself from the twister.

"Maybe, but at least we'd be meeting death on our own terms than as lambs being led to the slaughter by these two," Slick said, disgusted. He began pressing buttons on his console dashboard as the lightning rod on the back of his vehicle began glowing.

"What are you doing, Slick?" asked John suspiciously as he saw the glowing through his windshield past all the dirt and debris.

"I've done too much and still have too much to do to let anything stand in my way now," Slick answered as he pressed more buttons. "To let any_one_ stand in my way…"

"Kid, I'm telling you don't do this!" ordered John beginning to worry about his fellow Vigilante. "There has to be another way!"

"It's too late for that now. We tried it your way and failed and now it's my turn. **No mercy**,**"** Slick reaffirmed as the lightning rod began glowing brighter and brighter and exploded with energy. In his Jefferson, John Torque began quickly formulating plans in his head to try and lessen the damage the playboy was about to inflict on them all.

Down below, Beezwax and Boogie watched the walls of the twister with pleasure as they each silently awaited the screams of fear and terror when their vehicles were destroyed by the cyclone's wrath.

"This is going better than I expected," Boogie admitted. Beezwax nodded his head in response.

"Nothing can stop us now," he affirmed. And then energy began pulsating from the cyclone's wall and threatened to spill out into the area of calm in the center of the storm.

"What the-?" began Beezwax and Boogie together when…

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAACKKKKKKKKKKKK!

A giant lightning bolt ripped its way free of the cyclone and arced straight down at the two vehicles and struck the ground between them, throwing up several layers of dirt onto the two vehicles.

As Boogie and Beezwax watched shocked, Slick Clyde's Clydesdale tore free of the cyclone in the resulting displacement caused by the lightning and landed in front of them. Behind Boogie and Beezwax, a circular wave of energy ripped through the cyclone and it promptly expelled the Jefferson which slammed hard into the earth.

"Well done," said Beezwax appreciatively to himself at what the two had accomplished before dialing over to the Vigilante's frequency and listening in at what they had to say.

"Understand this Coyotes. I don't know where the road is going to lead for you two after this, but wherever you end up, when they ask who punched your ticket, you tell them Sli…no, _Lord_ Clyde sent you into the great beyond," promised Slick.

"Slick, you're not the villain of this story! I won't let you destroy yourself!" John Torque desperately pleaded of his companion whose lightning rod was glowing more and more brightly. And then John's trunk popped open revealing the bassquake device that too began lighting up.

"LIGHTNING!" shouted Slick as John summarily responded with. "BASSQUAKE!"

Lightning bolts began soaring in from above and repeatedly struck Boogie's disco ball that began glowing brighter and brighter as flares began launching off of it into the cyclone. As this was happening, the ground became more and more unstable from the bassquake resulting in a dangerous situation for all of them as the cyclone became and more unstable.

"Back off, John!" warned Slick angrily as their vehicles became and more thrashed from the outside elements. "I know what I'm doing!"

"Do you kid, do you really?" the scientist had to ask. "Or are you just letting your desire for vengeance cloud your judgment?"

"If vengeance is what it takes to get rid of those that stand in my way, then that's a choice I'm willing to make," Slick promised. More electrical arcs flew into the disco ball as the vehicles again rocked and swayed in the unstable ground below them.

"Yes, and that may work today and tomorrow as well, but what kind of a person are you going to be twenty or thirty years or even forty down the road?" John forced him to think about. "Vengeance, or just pure revenge, will be your whole life. You'll just be lashing out anything that gets in your way and you won't be able to distinguish friend from foe anymore. All you'll know are the lives you've destroyed and the lives you still have yet to destroy. Don't start now, kid, just walk away!"

And once again Slick found himself in a situation he'd confronted many times before, at a precipice between doing what he felt was necessary and what was right. Once more he had no answers, only a choice. So he sat in his vehicle, shaking in his seat as his thumb was poised over the trigger, ready to send one more lightning bolt into the disco ball.

What happened after that, no one is entirely sure. The light energy from the disco ball reached its maximum apex and washed out the images of anything else that the drivers could see. And then the disco ball finally exploded and all the energy it had been struggling to keep in rushed out into the surrounding area. From the outside, the cyclone began to waver uncertainly as streams of light energy erupted from its sides and destroyed anything they touched until the cyclone violently shook itself to pieces and a giant explosion engulfed the area as the ground was thrown straight up into the air and began raining down on the sandworx factory.

On a nearby ridge, an Excelsior Stretch Limousine, a motorcycle-like contraption, and a Palamino sat with their engines idle as their owners surveyed the factory and the battle that had just occurred. The older man sat with a big smirk across his face as he nodded his head approvingly at what had just occurred.

"I trust that answers your questions, Obake," he said over the radio. "About who Slick Clyde is and to what extent he's willing to go to in order to get things done. That's something you and Dallas can take to heart, I trust."

Voices of confirmation reached the older man's ears as he pressed some buttons on a strange device sitting on his dashboard. Below them in the pit, the ground began shaking in various places as if some force below them was struggling to escape.

"Let's go, our next target awaits our presence," he ordered. And then all three vehicles vanished in a bright flash of light while Slick's Clydesdale emerged from the sand. Its owner emerged from the vehicle and looked up at the location the three vehicles had been


	15. Explanations

Anasazi Sandworx Factory: Slick Clyde covered his face with a handkerchief as he coughed on the dust and sand raining down from the destroyed cyclone. The place looked like an atomic bomb had gone off and turned a vibrant area into a complete wasteland.

"JOHN!" he shouted into the chaos as he continued coughing. "JOHN TORQUE, WHERE ARE YOU?"

He continued forcing his way forward through the mess as he constantly stumbled over unseen debris that got in his way. He finally made his way to where he thought the car was and only found sand and more sand.

"Oh crap," said Slick as he hurried and released an object that he had bound to his back and quickly threw it on the ground and pulled the strings on it to release the cloth binding it as he pulled out a metal rod with an a crystal atop it.

"I'd really been hoping to extensively field test this first, but now's a good a time as any," said Slick aloud to no one in particular. "John, I'm really sorry if this hurts but I'm probably going to get it worse than you are."

He pressed a button on the rod as electricity crackled along the crystal and he rammed the rod into the ground where it left off an electrical blast that flung Slick off his feet and displaced several layers of dirt. Struggling to his feet, Slick forced himself back to the pole and began digging in the hole he had created. After a couple moments digging, he hit the top part of the Jefferson and silently offered prayer of thanks before covering up the vehicle and holding up the rod once more as it charged up.

"LIGHTNING!" he shouted for extra emphasis as he planted the rod once more and it exploded with power throwing Slick once more off his feet as the electrical blast blew away the remaining top layers covering the car.

"Shocking," remarked Slick as electrical arcs burned his skin as he picked up the burning metal rod as the crystal on top of it exploded throwing chunks everywhere. He brushed aside the pieces that lodged itself in his skin as he made his way down to the door of the car and yanked it open. He immediately, but gently, pulled John Torque's battered body out of the vehicle and laid him on the hood. Pressing his fingers to his veins, he found no pulse.

"Like I said, no mercy," Slick promised as he performed a couple chest compressions and then produced his rod and hoped for one last miracle. He lightly pressed the end onto John's chest and pressed the button once more. Without the crystal, the resulting electrical charge was nowhere near as powerful as the earlier ones, but it was enough to send Slick into convulsions as he held onto the rod for dear might as the electricity also coursed into John and his eyes fluttered open as he regained consciousness and immediately rolled over and began puking up sand and mud as Slick collapsed off the hood.

"Hey, Slick, you okay?" asked a disheveled John Torque after a couple moments had passed.

"As okay as any roasted piece of meat could be," was the response as Slick looked up to see John sitting on the hood shakily lighting up a cigar. Groaning, and coughing all the same as the last of the debris finally settled, the playboy made his way to the hood and sat down on it as well in pain.

"Fancy gizmo," remarked John of the rod contraption that was on the ground. Slick nodded as he pulled out a thermos and began drinking from it.

"I've always been fascinated by electricity for as long as I can remember," Slick revealed as he wiped his mouth. "I've always wanted to be able to harness it and bend it to my will for any purpose I might desire. That I am Slick Clyde and I refuse to be pushed over any more."

The playboy's hands clenched tightly at that and began shaking lightly as John took a long drag on his cigar to try and organize his thoughts about what Slick had done inside the cyclone and what he had said just now.

"Well, thanks, I appreciate it," was all the scientist could think to say. Slick's hands opened up once more as he dropped his head into his palms and stared at the lightning rod.

"I should be apologizing to you, though," the playboy responded glumly. "I nearly got you killed just now."

John nodded his head with a brief smile. "But you did get the job done like you promised. Your modus operandi does show results, it's just up to you to decide if the risks are worth it."

Slick nodded his head at that as he eased himself off the car and winced from his still smoking flesh. Bending over, he picked up the rod and used it to prop himself up.

"Well if nothing else, it works as a pretty good cane," the playboy responded lightly as John chuckled at that. He too got off of his car and joined Slick as the two slowly made their way across the sand towards Boogie's Leprechaun that was partly sticking out of a newly created sand dune. As they made their way there, they noted a hole in the ground and tire tracks leading away from it that indicated that Beezwax escaped the mess and was now elsewhere.

"Eight," said Slick suddenly as they got closer to the Leprechaun.

"Hmm?" asked John curious. A broad grin spread across Slick's face as he continued hobbling with his cane.

"I'd have had you in eight moves," the playboy continued as he began laughing at that reference to the chess game. John groaned heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Like hell you would have," he shot back. "I saw your plan of attack from a mile away."

"I doubt that," Slick scoffed at him. "But we'll just have to play another round sometime."

John nodded his head as they finally reached the Leprechaun. "But I don't see how chess could compare to this."

Slick had to agree to that as he finally felt well enough to walk without the rod and subsequently used it to pry open the car door. From it, sand drained out along with the unconscious form of Boogie.

"Is he alright?" asked Slick while John knelt down to feel his pulse.

"He'll be fine, he just needs a little bit of medical attention," the scientist answered as he stood back up. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance as the two Vigilantes looked at each other and then their surroundings.

"You know, we actually left most of this place intact, I'm impressed," Slick commented wryly. John laughed hard at that.

"We'd better bolt," he ordered as Slick nodded and reproduced his sunglasses that he brushed the sand off and then slid onto his face. Then without another word, both ran for their vehicles and fled the scene as the police arrived and quickly apprehended Boogie.

Premium Fruit Works Co.: "So the CIA has finally decided to take an interest in our actions here, huh?" said Chassey disgusted at the Agency's hands off approach to this whole OMAR mess.

"Sort of," said Chase noncommittally as he leaned against his car with his arms crossed. "Actually, we've been secretly observing the Bureau's actions to the crisis while we've been working on something more important."

"Which is?" asked Convoy curious.

"The next major threat that we think is going to manifest itself soon. Something that could be a lot worse than what OMAR is doing right now," the agent answered frankly. Chassey snorted at that.

"The agency always thinks there's a new threat on the horizon, real or imaginary," she balked. "No offense."

"None taken. However, I'm sure even you have heard the reports of an OMAR Facility being attacked in Mexico City and then a USAF base in Arizona plus the recent attack in Sacramento," Chase pointed out with a raised eyebrow for emphasis as he noted the uncomfortable looks from Chassey and Convoy. "These facilities were all knocked off by a trio of vehicles with radically advanced weaponry the kind we haven't seen before and their capability to obtain whatever knowledge they want from any information system out there is beyond current known capabilities."

"So who do you think is behind this?" Convoy asked further. Chase gave a noncommittal shrug.

"We suspect a third party," was all he offered. "But I was curious to hear what our turncoat here might have to say."

All eyes turned to Houston who shifted uncomfortably at the attention.

"If they're the same ones who hacked my OS then they're bad news," she stated. "And ever since then, I've been getting strange visions of smokestacks pumping thick black smoke into the atmosphere, strange buildings rising high into the sky, the feeling of flying while still in the driver's seat of a Palamino, and even a single number."

"Which is?" Chase prompted as the others considered the images Houston had described.

"2017," she answered cryptically. "But more so than that, there's one name that keeps repeating in my head, the one thing tying all of those images together."

The others looked at her expectantly, Chassey and Convoy with a look of dread, and R. Chase with an air of interest.

"The Oil Monopoly Alliance Regime," she said and then sighed heavily at having said that. Convoy blinked at that.

"You think the Regime is fighting itself?" he asked at a loss. Chassey brightened at that.

"Well that's great!" she said ecstatic. "If OMAR destroys itself than we'll finally be rid of them once and for all."

Silence was the others response to that as Chassey looked at their dour expressions confused.

"Isn't that good?" she further prodded. Now Convoy sighed.

"Under normal circumstances, yes, but these are not normal," he answered before looking at Houston 3. "Am I correct?"

"Yes," she responded. "The OMAR we know right now is going to lose and the new OMAR that takes its place is going to be more ruthless than they ever were. In fact, if I'm interpreting the information I received from my uplink with these individuals, then it's not even an internal power struggle. This new group of individuals is trimming away the ineffectual fat of OMAR to leave room for a leaner, meaner, version that will not stop in assuring total global domination of the oil supply."

"Oh," said Chassey at a loss for words. "So what do we do?"

"We keep on truckin'," said Convoy positively as a warm smile crossed his face. "Because there ain't nothin' on 'em that can stop a convoy."

Chassey laughed at that as Houston also cracked a smile while Chase turned even dourer at hearing that.

"What kind of nonsense is that?" he demanded angrily. "You need to prepare for what is to come."

Convoy shook his head at that. "No, I think we'll just keep doing what we're doing for now. If the new threat comes, then it comes, but I'm not going to worry over something that I can't do anything about right now. Worry is a waste of the imagination. We'll deal with your threat when it appears and not before then. If you want to deal with that threat now, go right ahead, but until then, turbo wagons, here I come!"

The trucker subsequently headed for his vehicle as Houston and Chassey followed suit for theirs.

"But…but!" the Agent protested. Chassey turned and blew him a kiss goodbye.

"Don't be shy sweetie pie!" she taunted before summarily flipping him off and running for her Rattler. Houston gave the agent a sympathetic nod and also ran for her Palamino and started it up. Soon Convoy's truck rolled past the Chrono Stinger and the trucker honked his horn for good measure. Houston's Palamino passed without incident, but the agent made special motion to briefly stop Chassey's vehicle.

"Make it quick," she swore. The agent nodded as he squatted down so they were at eye level.

"Do you trust him?" he asked of her, to whom he was referring to was intentionally left ambiguous. Her response was unreadable as he could only stare at her aviator glasses that just provided a reflection of himself.

"With my life," she swore, knowing exactly who he was talking about. The agent sighed.

"And what if I were to tell that you can't afford to?" he asked bluntly. The response was again one of passiveness before a smile broke out on her face.

"I'd tell you that I know you're wrong because right now he's fighting along with us and you are just trying to cause trouble," she said coolly, a threat underlying her calm words. "But I'm guessing you already knew I'd say that."

The agent sighed and nodded his head. "Yes, I did. And not a day goes by that I wish you didn't feel that way."

Chassey's eyes narrowed at his strange statement but she let it go and instead revved her engine.

"Then we're done here," she decided. "Goodbye Agent Chase, I'm sure you can tell the Agency where I want them to shove it."

Chase laughed at that as he stood back up. "I think they already know."

"Good," said Chassey pleased as she prepared to roll out when Chase said one last thing.

"Good luck in Hollywood, Agent Blue," he requested of her. "Just…don't believe the tabloids and realize that those who told them the story really do have ulterior motives."

Chassey watched in shock as the agent stood up and walked back to his vehicle as one thought permeated her mind. "_Who are you?_"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," he responded to her unanswered question as Chassey angrily hit the accelerator and left the farm behind. She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts and her anger at the CIA agent that she failed to notice a brilliant white flash in her rearview mirror centered in the exact spot of the agent's vehicle.

Time passed…

Las Vegas, Nevada: With the reports of vehicular warfare across the American Southwest and the destruction of an OMAR Facility in Mexico, and the attacks in Sacramento and the USAF Base in Arizona, things had rapidly calmed down in the city limits. There were still occasional pockets of chaos here and there, but for the most part, the city had organized itself against threats that would weaken its response time to external threats.

At the moment, the five remaining Vigilantes were holed up in a room at the Galaxy Hotel and were getting up to speed with each other about what had happened since they'd last met.

"Wild stuff," said Slick offhand as he rooted through the mini-fridge in search of liquor but ultimately found none. "So did that CIA Agent make a pass at you?"

"He tried," Chassey said from the nearby bed just curious to see what Slick's reaction would be. The only sounds that reached her ears were of potato chip packages being crumpled.

"Slick?" she asked, crossing her arms. "Don't you have anything to say?"

"Of course I do!" he snapped back as his head emerged from the fridge. "There are no pretzels in here."

"About the agent's actions!" she explained. Slick looked at her confused before sitting on the bed next to her and putting on his charm.

"Of course I do ma chere," he said in a faux-French accent and made kissy lips and fluttered his eyes before Chassey shoved him off the bed to the ground.

"Ahahahaha!" laughed the playboy, not getting up as Chassey groaned. "But seriously CB, you can handle yourself against any suitors, you've certainly rejected me enough times to know that."

Chassey chuckled at that. "Yeah, I guess I have."

"Any chances of that changing?" asked Slick hopefully. Chassey rolled her eyes and blew a stray strand of hair out of her face.

"Fat chance," she responded snootily. The playboy laughed again at that as Chassey summarily dropped a pillow on him.

Nearby, John, Houston, and Convoy were at the lone table in the room as John looked over Houston's circuitry with a magnifying glass and some precision instruments.

"Unbelievable," he repeated as he continued pouring over each exposed circuit. "I always dreamed of technology like this but I never would have thought it was possible in our lifetime."

"The technology to enslave one's mind?" asked Houston bitterly. John shook his head as he continued examining her armband.

"The ability to miniaturize electronic components on this scale," he responded. "You've got enough computing power in your arm to put NORAD to shame."

"Yeah, right," said Houston doubtfully. John temporarily stopped his work to look up at her.

"I'm absolutely serious. From what I can see you're holding well over a terabyte of memory in here. With today's technology, miniaturizing even a megabyte to this size is merely a dream," said John astounded. "Your processing speed, motherboard, and really everything in this arm, shouldn't be possible, yet."

"But how is OMAR controlling me?" was all Houston wanted to know. John could merely shrug at that.

"I haven't the slightest idea," he confessed as he put down his tools. "I have absolutely no way of interfacing with this technology with what currently exists."

"But then-," Houston began protesting when John held up his hand to silence her.

"Anything that _currently_ exists," he reminded her with added emphasis. Houston had to think about that, but her mind was still a jumble from her circuitry still trying to control her thoughts and actions.

"So how do I remove it?" was her next question. John leaned back in his chair as he looked at her frankly.

"It should come off fairly easily, you just need to insert a sharpened object into the clasp and then pop it open and then off. The problem is I don't know what removing the circuitry will do to you," the scientist answered. "It ranges from coming off with no problems to killing you."

Houston sighed as she covered up her armband with her jacket sleeve before she held her head in her hands and tried not to tear up over what OMAR had done to her.

"What would you do in my place?" she asked of the scientist in desperation. John's expression hardened at that.

"**I would never let anyone enslave me**," he swore. Houston nodded her head and sat back up as she wiped her eyes and then turned to the trucker who had remained silent during the whole proceedings in the hotel.

"You're still worried about your niece?" she asked, trying to get her mind off of her problems. Convoy snapped out of his reverie at her voice and nodded his head.

"I just don't know where she and Dave could have gone to. The reports Chassey gathered indicated that the police arrested the Coyote bus driver, but that while no trace of the two opposing him and the other exists, that they never left the facility either," he said at a loss. "It's just strange."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Convoy," said Slick from across the room as he sat next to Chassey on one of the beds. "I'm sure they'll turn up sooner or later."

"I suppose-," began Convoy when…

!

A bright light suddenly erupted in the room as the trio at the table immediately took shelter below it and Slick shoved Chassey in the space between the beds and instantly dove on top of her to try and provide some protection. But just as instantly as the light was there, it vanished leaving behind Sheila and Dave who collapsed onto the floor in a heap.

"Damn," said Slick astonished as he helped Chassey back up and John and Convoy ran to their aid. The two new arrivals unsteadily got to their feet before each ran off for a nearby trash can and began puking their guts into it.

"Get off!" said Chassey as she shoved him onto the bed. "It's not like you knew they were coming."

"Of course I did, I'm from the future," said Slick before doing some strange motions with his hands. Chassey swatted his hands away before groaning.

"No, you're not!" she shot back. Slick glared at her.

"Why must you shoot down every thing I say?" he complained, though without much bite to his word. "At least wait until after we're married to do that!"

Chassey hunched over laughing hysterically at that while Slick turned beat red. Meanwhile, Dave and Sheila regained their footing and wiped their mouths with some paper towels.

"He's right," Dave croaked as Sheila nodded in agreement to the stunned responses of the rest of those in the room.

"WHAT?" they all shouted.

"Well the part about the future, not about the married part, I have no idea about that," said Dave sheepishly as Sheila chuckled into her hands at that.

"What about the future?" asked Convoy trying to get the conversation back on track, as well as an explanation for where the two had just arrived from. Dave looked at him with a wide mixture of emotions present on his face.

"It was always about the future, we just never realized it until now," he responded as he took a seat along with Sheila and both began to talk about their discussion with an alien known simply as 'Y'.

Nearby: At a 24-hr. restaurant, Sid Burn, Beexwax, and Loki sat in a booth as Sid noisily slurped down some noodles while Loki ate an MRE, and Beezwax was having some honeycomb dripping with syrup.

"Analysis indicates the odds are not in our favor," said Loki finally. Beezwax slowly stopped crunching on his honeycomb to hear what Sid had to say to that.

"I think we're fine," their leader offered nonchalantly. "Sometimes the odds are in your favor, sometimes not. But we got rid of the excess weight that was slowing us down and even got rid of a traitor and OMAR's little stool pigeon. I think we're in better shape now than we were before."

"Inquiry, what are our present tactical goals?" the former air force pilot asked. Sid Burn sat up at that and placed a road map on the table.

"Well, at the very least we still have to go after the Hoover Dam," he responded and drew a circle over its nearby location. "But after that, I'm not quite sure. OMAR did have optional secondary targets in the form of a ghost town, a canyon land tourist attraction, and finally some bizarre place not on any map called Dreamland. But I'm thinking that we did about as well as we could so we should get paid for the job done and then go our separate ways. Unless someone has any other suggestions."

"I might have one," Beezwax admitted after a couple moments of silence had passed. "But I can't talk about it here, just in the camper."

Sid's eyebrows rose at that before thinking about that request.

"This have anything to do with those bees of yours?" he asked, curious. The beekeeper nodded his head.

"It might, along with those strange vehicles Molo saw way back when and the hacking of Houston's armband by OMAR technology," he added before taking another noisy crunch of his honeycomb.

"Then let's see it," the leader ordered as he got out of the booth and tossed some money on the table. Loki and Beexwax filed out as well and the trio was headed out the door when Sid briefly paused at one of the booths.

"Nice katana," he commented to an Asian woman in a blue jumpsuit before continuing his walk. As he exited, the woman briefly turned to glance at the exit doors before returning her attention forward as the older Caucasian man who had spearheaded the actions that had given OMAR and the USAF so much grief took a seat on the other side of the booth.

"Something wrong?" he asked, curious as he resumed eating his grilled cheese sandwich.

"He took a liking to my katana," the woman responded. The man smiled at that.

"Well I'm sure you'd have shown him the business end of it had he insisted on seeing it up close," he responded with a smile full of melted cheese, though he got no reaction out of his companion.

"Father, why are we here?" the woman asked as she had when they first arrived at the diner. The man stopped eating and briefly wiped his mouth with a napkin before turning to look out into the rainy night and watched Sid Burn and Beezwax enter the back of the Stag Pickup's camper while Loki stood watch outside.

"If there's one thing I've constantly tried to teach you, Obake, it's the importance of knowing the whole story," he answered. "If you know everything, then nothing can catch you off guard and every decision you make will have that much more opportunity to be in your favor. I know the Vigilante's story, I now know the current story of OMAR, but I _don't_ know the story of the Coyotes."

"But if what you told me is true then why does it matter?" Obake protested. The older man held up his hand to stop her.

"It's what I 'think' is true, not what I 'know' is true. I need to the later, the former does not have as much usefulness," he forced her to recognize. Obake sat back in her chair as she considered that while a nervous waitress filled the older man's coffee cup before quickly retreating from the woman and her blade. The older man took a sip from his coffee before producing an AM/FM radio that also took cassette tapes. The man turned it on and it began playing a disco song and Obake uncharacteristically cringed at that.

"What?" the man demanded before he began to understand what was causing her strange reaction and he immediately stopped working on the radio as he rolled his eyes while groaning. "Oh, you have got to be kidding me!"

"It's so old, papa!" teased Obake with a mischievous grin and sounding like a ten-year old girl. The man looked at her with an annoyed glance.

"In my day this was cutting edge," he argued. "Stereophonic sound was an achievement in and of itself and the sound quality added to the experience unlike that digital stuff or whatever it is in the sound system on your Tsunami. As for disco, if you give it a chance you might actually like it."

Obake's reaction to that made such a thought very doubtful. "No, I'm too afraid I'll catch that fever I heard people from this time period used to catch whenever they heard this music."

The older man nearly choked on his coffee when he heard that and started coughing as a result.

"I put you through the best schools imaginable and this is what you have to show for your knowledge of the 1970s?" the man responded incredulously as he returned to his work of using several tools on a strange device that he had taken out of his vest pocket. "What did they teach you in those classes?"

"Astrophysics, Advanced Calculus, Fourth Dimensional Travel Theory…," began Obake as she let her voice drop off.

"Right, but without practical experience those skills are largely useless, which is why I'm glad I brought you and Dallas along on this mission," the older man responded before he finished his work and put his tools away. "Practical experience as you are about to see."

The man took the device he'd been working on and stuck it to the side of the radio and soon the sound of it tuning was heard and then brief static before the voices of Sid Burn and Beezwax filtered through, talking about an inscription on the mechanical bee's circuitry.

Hotel: "So what about the future?" Convoy asked of Dave as the hippie was drinking a long glass of water to try and wash away the bad taste in his mouth. The hippie then took a bite out of a nearby cookie before turning to John Torque who was sitting across the table that they all were clustered around.

"John, all this time you've been hinting that you know where the advanced technology that we found at Site 4 was from, and presumably Houston's armband was also constructed from similar advanced technologies, and I was hoping you could finally tell us what that theory was," Dave asked of the scientist. All eyes turned to him as John sighed and leaned back in his chair and threw his hands behind his head and then leaned the back of the chair against the wall.

"Well, the thing with all of this technology is that as advanced as it is, we still know how to use it, and more importantly it's able to interface with the stuff we have with no problem," he responded, bringing up points the others had considered. "As everyone knows, Site 4 was supposed to contain alien technology. Well if it's alien, then it really doesn't matter how advanced it is, it'd take a very long time to even try and understand the technology, let alone reverse-engineer it, yet there's nothing fundamentally different from this stuff than what exists today. And then there's one other important thing…"

"Which is?" asked Convoy with trepidation. John sighed even harder and wished he wasn't about to tell them what he had observed in his own experiments with the advanced technologies.

"On various places of the pieces I found, it had printed writing on it, writing in English, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, you name it, but absolutely nothing in an alien-like script," he answered plainly. Eyes went wide across the table as each thought about the implications of what John had just said.

"Which would mean-," Chassey began, but couldn't bring herself to say it. John nodded his head in agreement with her unsaid thought.

"Yes. That the advanced technology isn't from another world…," he began and then concluded.

"…It's from the future."


	16. Family

Hotel Room: "Bull…," began Slick when Chassey elbowed him in the chest to control his language in front of Sheila.

"I know it sounds crazy, but that's exactly what the alien told us," said Sheila, finally speaking up. That piqued Houston's interest.

"And what's his interest in all of this?" she asked, both curious and suspicious. "I find it hard to believe that an alien would care about the struggles going on in this country without an ulterior motive."

"He wouldn't tell us," Dave did have to admit. "But it did have something to do with trying to keep advanced technologies out of our present day hands."

"So that we're helpless to stop their invasion force," said Slick cynically. Dave shook his head.

"No, because the fact that the technology exists implies that we're still alive and kicking down the road and even with it, that saucer could still do a lot of damage. But more importantly the alien did highlight that whoever is attacking OMAR and the USAF is from the future as well and they _do_ have an ulterior motive for doing so," he revealed. Everyone had to stop and think about that one, especially Convoy, Houston, and Chassey as they thought about what the CIA Agent had really been trying to warn them about.

"Visitors from the future?" said Slick astounded, though he was pouring on an exaggerated tone to try and keep their minds off of darker thoughts. "Man, I'd like to meet them! Even better, I'd like to _be_ one of them!"

Chassey briefly broke out into a smile at that one before struggling to become serious again.

"Why?" she had to wonder as the others went back to discussing the alien. Slick shrugged.

"So I could say a cool one liner whenever someone asked me why I came," he responded, pleased with himself. Chassey rolled her eyes at that.

"Like what?" she asked, hoping to end this side conversation so she could focus on John Torque explaining why time travel was more plausible than faster than light space travel with input from Dave.

"I've got it," said Slick snapping his fingers. "Do you wanna hear it?"

"I am all ears," Chassey promised as Sheila also secretly listened in on their conversation. Both were expecting something light hearted, something stupid, and something they could both get a good laugh over. But as Slick prepared to say his one line, a shadow almost seemed to cross over his face as he summoned up his energy to speak and his appearance became slightly darker in nature while a cool wind seemed almost to blow through the room, chilling both the female Vigilantes.

"Why did I come you ask? Wasn't it obvious even for someone like you?" demanded Slick of his unseen adversary with just a hint of surprised disgust as his eyes narrowed darkly. "**I've come through time to claim what's mine!"**

And once more the moment passed as Slick brightened up once more.

"So what do you think?" he asked, curious. Chassey was simply at a loss for words as Sheila quickly returned her attention to John and the others.

"I…think…that that's the goofiest thing I've ever heard," the FBI Agent responded in an attempt to cover up her insecurity over his comment. Slick shrugged off her comment with an offhand wave.

"Ah, it's still a work in progress," he commented. "Give it time, and a reason for me to say it, and then it'll sound much better."

With that, the playboy returned his attention to the others as Chassey watched him for a few more moments as the words of the CIA Agent echoed in her mind before she shook her head of them and returned her attention to the table.

"_You can't trust him_,"

Beezwax's Camper: Rain pounded the vehicle as Sid Burn sat a workbench in the camper and looked through a microscope at one of Beezwax's miniature robotic bees. He glanced at the image for a few more moments as he poked at the bees remains with a pair of tweezers before he lifted his head and yawned loudly, before he considered what he had seen.

"And you're certain of this?" he asked. Beezwax nodded his head.

"Yes, but I'd have thought the evidence speaks for itself," he pointed out, in reference to the serial number present on the microchips in the bees.

"Yes, I suppose it does," Sid reluctantly admitted as he thought about the implications of technology from the future existing in the past. "And I suppose this means we're headed back for Site 4 to acquire more of this stuff."

Beezwax shook his head. "Not necessarily. Because if this proves that the road can be travelled in at least one direction, then there's no reason to assume that it can't be travelled going back."

Gears started working in Sid's head as he thought hard about that.

"Yes…yes! Of course it could," he said as if the idea was obvious. "And if there's a way to get there, then Site 4 would have it! And if we had it, the possibilities would be endless. We could even escape OMAR if they decided to liquidate us."

"And we could conquer whomever we pleased," Beezwax concluded. Sid nodded his head and hopped out of the camper and looked up at the beekeeper through the pouring rain.

"Get some sleep and get ready to move in the morning. We'll hit the Hoover Dam in the morning and then Site 4 in the afternoon and then we'll finally be rid of those Vigilantes once and for all," he ordered. Beezwax nodded and slammed his door shut as Sid made his way to his car.

Inside the diner, the older man took a sip of his coffee before taking the radio and yanking the listening device off of it.

"Now do you see why it was so important for us to learn of their plans?" he asked of his female companion. Obake nodded before turning to look outside at Sid Burn entering into his vehicle and slamming the door shut against the outside elements.

"I think our choice of action is now clear," the woman said as she reached for her katana. But immediately the old man reached and grabbed her arm to stop her from retrieving it as around the diner, the patrons breathed a sigh of relief.

"You can't just kill everything the instant it becomes a threat, it's not productive," the man warned her. "I killed Three because he was a threat to our operations but I didn't kill Seven and Eight because despite that they are our adversaries, down the road they will prove useful."

"It's…confusing," Obake admitted. "To keep everything straight with this particular mission."

"I know," the old man freely admitted. "But I knew someone whose personal statement went something like: Remember the past, live for today, prepare for tomorrow, fight the future. It might help to think along those terms for now."

The woman nodded as the older man stood up and straightened his vest and dress shirt.

"Let's go, we have an appointment to keep," he told her. The woman nodded and after the bill was paid, both headed out the door to their vehicles.

Hotel: "So then what'll we do now?" asked Slick. "This doesn't really help us that much."

"I think it does," said Convoy. "If we know this, then Sid knows it as well, and he might make a play for more technology at Site 4."

"Why?" asked Sheila curious. Convoy looked over at John knowingly as the scientist spoke up.

"Because if that technology got here, then it could be possible to go back to when it came from," he answered. "And I've known Sid for a long time to know that that is an especially appealing idea to him."

"Now I want to know who I'll be in the future!" Sheila chimed in ecstatically. "Madame President of the USA, here I come!"

"Don't get your head up into the clouds too soon, you still need to finish school first," Convoy warned her. "But for right now I'd say we finally have a plan. We'll head for Site 4 in the morning."

But as everyone got up to leave for their hotel rooms, Houston visibly cleared her throat.

"When I was with Sid, he talked about saving the Hoover Dam for the last of his targets. I think we should consider defending it," she said. All eyes turned to their leader as he considered what she had said.

"Dave, Sheila, John, and Houston you four will go to Site 4 and try and work up a scenario to try and get us back into that base. I'll take Chassey and Slick and go defend the Hoover Dam from any outside attack," the trucker decided. The others nodded and headed for the door when Slick spoke up.

"Actually, I think it might be better if John went with Chassey and I while you went to Site 4. You're the leader of this outfit, it should be you coming up with the plans for when everything goes down there," he requested to everyone's surprise. Convoy looked at him curiously with an instinctual hint of suspicion before he looked at John.

"It makes sense to me," John figured. "There won't be much cover out there and the vehicles going will need to be more maneuverable and not take up much space on the road. I know my bassquake won't be much use because it could destabilize the dam, but I know about the stress points on it as well as anyone. Hopefully it'll let us keep the lights on for those hoping for a better tomorrow."

Convoy reluctantly nodded his head as everyone slowly filed out, but the trucker briefly stopped his friend.

"And if Sid is there?" he asked quietly. John looked down before staring the trucker in the eyes.

"Then I'll deal with it," he promised with a grin. "I'll be fine, trust me. Besides, I got Slick out of a jam back at the Sandworx, I can only trust he'll do the same for me."

The trucker nodded and patted his friend on the back as he headed for the door and out into the hallway where Slick was twirling his electrical cane in his hands while leaning against the wall of the corridor while Chassey was trying to open the door to her own room.

"So I was thinking that you and I could mosey on down to the pool and maybe some sparks will fly," the playboy said mischievously. For added emphasis, he pressed the button on the cane as an electrical arc flew off of it. Chassey looked at the rod skeptically before looking at the playboy and his wide grin.

"And if I told you that I don't have a swimsuit, I expect that'll only make it more romantic?" she asked, knowingly. Slick vigorously nodded his head with an even wider grin. Chassey groaned as she often did with Slick's suggestions before a brief smile tugged at her lips.

"Okay," she said nodding her head as Slick's eyes went wide before she added flirtatiously. "But do you want to know what'll really make the sparks fly?"

"What?" he asked with hushed anticipation as the FBI agent got up close to him and slammed her left hand against the wall next to his head and brought her face close in front of his.

"This," she said lustily as with her free hand she grabbed Slick's metal rod and she instantly pressed it to his leg and fired off a round which caused the playboy to collapse in spasms.

"What do you say to that?" she asked with an air of superiority over her fallen comrade. Slick chuckled at that as did John.

"Babe, you sure know how to make a man's heart race," he responded in kind. Chassey shook her head as she pointed the rod at him and helped him back up.

"You'll never give up, will you?" she asked. The playboy shook his head.

"Nope," he responded before his expression slowly turned more serious. "But seriously CB I know you can handle yourself but if you ever need anything don't hesitate to ask. I'll always be there for you, for all of us Vigilantes. I promise."

Chassey's eyes softened at that as she nodded her head appreciatively. "Yeah, I know Slick. Catch a good night's sleep; I'm looking forward to showing you up tomorrow."

"Yes ma'am!" said Slick in a southern drawl as he put his cowboy hat on and tipped it at her as Chassey laughed and then entered her room closing the door on him. Slick put his hands in his pockets and moseyed on down the hallway before noticing John looking at him.

"What?" he asked. John just shook his head as if warding off whatever was in his head.

"Good night, partner," was all he said before he opened the door to his room. But then Slick reached out with the rod and laid it on the scientist's shoulder.

"Look, you were there for me at the sand works and I'll try and be there for you against Sid," Slick promised, a little uncomfortable at having a heart to heart with anyone. "Just don't expect me to be any good at it."

"I don't imagine that was easy to say," John pointed out, glad to see Slick opening up to the rest of the team. Slick shook his head.

"No, it wasn't," he agreed. "But like you always say, you've got to roll the dice bro and I'm here as a result so I intend to play through."

John held up his hand and Slick slammed his into it. "Right on, brother," the scientist agreed. And then both broke hands and went their separate ways. As Slick headed down the hallway towards his vehicle because he didn't have enough money to get a room, he passed the gymnasium and noted a woman in a blue jumpsuit performing a series of skillful maneuvers with a katana blade. After watching her for a few moments, he waited until she cooled down and began drinking from her water bottle before he made his presence known.

"You know you're pretty good with that," he had to admit. The woman's head snapped up and she held the weapon in a defensive pose as Slick held up his hands in peace.

"Hey calm down, I'm just an innocent bystander," he promised. A look seemed to pass the woman's features before she lowered her katana and twirled it around in her hand before she put it away. "Anyway, like I said, you're pretty good with that."

"Thank you," said the woman with a slight hint of appreciation. "Do you know much about the art of swordplay?"

Slick shook his head. "No, but I did catch some occasional tournaments if I had a modeling competition nearby."

The woman looked at him with a mixture of curiosity and shock. "You are a model?"

"I was," said Slick with a brief chuckle, now having come to terms with putting that part of his past fully behind him. "Now I'm sort of self-employed. I'm Slick by the way."

"I'm Oba-," began the woman immediately before she briefly hesitated about her answer. "Keiko."

"Pleased to meet you Keiko; what brings you to Vegas if you don't mind my asking?" asked Slick amicably. The woman took a long sip from her water bottle as she thought up an answer to that.

"I'm her with my father on business," she responded, which was pretty much the truth.

"That business require some slicing and dicing?" Slick asked pointedly at her sword and some scratches and cuts on her jumpsuit.

"Does it matter?" the woman asked, suspiciously as she tossed her bottle into the air and then immediately sliced it in two with her sword.

"No," Slick confessed as the woman began to wobble from the effort. "But you're not going to be any good to anyone if you don't get some sleep. Here let me help you."

Slick walked over to the woman who again tensed briefly, but seemed to relax after he slung her arm over his shoulder and helped her to the exit. Keiko summarily prepared to use her sword as further support when Slick stopped her.

"Don't use that you'll just scuff up the carpet. Use this instead," he told her as he handed her his metal lightning rod. The Asian woman seemed hesitant at first to take the object from him.

"You would let me use your cane?" she asked at a loss. Slick snorted at that.

"Of course I would, you look like you need it just to stand still," he responded matter of fact. "Now take it so I can help you to your room so you can get some sleep."

The woman put her katana away and then brandished the rod and used it to further support herself as her eyes almost seemed to glisten from unshed tears.

"Whatever you say father," she responded nearly entirely asleep as she yawned heavily. Slick laughed at that.

"I'm not your father but when we get to your room you should let him know that I said you should sleep in tomorrow," he told her. "And I'm more than happy to argue that with him."

A faint smile crossed the woman's face at that. "I'd like to see that conversation," she answered before divulging the room she and her father were staying in. After a few moments of walking they reached the door where Keiko said that she was fine to let herself in.

"Okay then, goodnight Keiko," said Slick as he waved at her with his metal rod and headed off.

"Goodnight father," Keiko said in what Slick took to be a teasing voice caused by lack of sleep.

"Goodnight daughter," he shot back and then kept walking. A moment later the door opened and the old man stood in the doorway.

"Ah there you are Keiko, I was wondering what was keeping you," the old man said. "Whose voice was that I heard outside the door?"

"Slick Clyde's," the woman responded with bemused smile on her face as the old man was a little taken aback by that. "He helped to up here after my practice session took more out of me than I realized."

"I see. And what did he have to say?" the man asked, needing to know, as he helped Keiko to her bed.

"He said you should let me sleep in tomorrow or he'd have a word with you," she responded and then quickly laid her katana underneath her pillow and placed her hair sticks on the nightstand and then was out cold. The old man laughed heartily at that.

"Well, maybe we can accommodate his request this time," he stated to Keiko's unconscious form as he placed her under the covers and then went back to the open door to close it. But before he did that, he briefly looked out into the hallway to see Slick's departing form.

"Remember, Slick, they will only betray you in the end," he offered as parting advice, not that the playboy could hear it. And then he was gone down the stairwell as the old man shut the door to his room.

Elsewhere: Nighttime was in full effect for the city of Flagstaff, Arizona as a flying saucer silently passed over the city and headed for the nearby Sunset Crater. The craft came to a halt on the nearby highway and 'Y' the Alien immediately disembarked and opened its satchel and produced its padd and began scanning the area with it as it bit into some beef jerky.

"Three temporal signatures detected," the padd stated in English and then a bright light erupted from the top of it and highlighted the three areas that the temporal disruptions would occur high above the highway.

The alien then promptly turned around and looked down the road and pointed its padd in that direction and scanned it. The alien then looked at the readings and then stepped off the roadway and onto the gravel as images flickered in its mind. Images came of a lone vehicle heading down the road, images of three temporal disruptions in the road in front of it, of three anomalies racing from them and opening fire on the vehicle and it swerving to avoid them, and then explosions ripping through it, resulting in it slamming into the guard rail overlooking a nearby canyon, before the anomalies attacked once more and the vehicle fell off the cliff and erupted into flames before vanishing from sight.

'Y' sighed heavily to himself as he put the padd away and the light illuminating the temporal schisms vanished as well. The alien then had a peeved look on his face at the apparent failing of the CIA agent as it stood in silence before lazily kicking a rock onto the road and watching it settle. As the alien continued to debate about what to do, a pair of headlights appeared on the horizon. Rather than hide, the alien watched the lights grow brighter and brighter before the outline of the vehicle became clear in the form of a moon rover. The alien looked at the vehicle perplexed as it came to a halt in front of him, with the light of its headlights glinting menacingly of its forward metal pincers.

…And then the pincers began flailing menacingly as the buggy roared after the alien who promptly bolted for his craft. In the distance the remaining residents of Flagstaff who were still awake witnessed a strange flurry of activity on the horizon as laser blasts and heavy artillery lit up the night sky.

Galaxy Hotel Parking Garage: Slick Clyde stumbled into the garage where a large assortment of vehicles was sitting in their parking spots waiting for their owners to return. The playboy yawned heavily as he made his way towards his vehicle with drooping eyes, until his eyes fell on one in particular.

"Hello gorgeous, we meet again," said Slick as he walked over to the Excelsior Stretch Limousine that was sitting between a Palamino on jacks and a motorcycle hybrid. Slick walked over to the vehicle and placed his hand on the cold white hood and sighed heavily. And then he summarily collapsed on top of it fast asleep as his metal rod clanged off the hood and then rolled onto the floor with another clang. As the playboy slept, a shadow of a tall individual with a cowboy hat fell over him and stared at him with piercing yellowish-orange orbs. After a few moments of looking at him, the individual picked up Slick's limp form and carried him off towards his vehicle. After placing him inside, it returned to the limousine and picked up Slick's fallen electrical rod and looked at it with interest.

"REPAIR…REPAIR…," the individual began repeating as they walked off with the cane.

Kuwait City: The OMAR Executives were in the main conference room as always while images of the Galaxy Hotel sprung up.

"This is excellent work Twelve," One complemented as new images of the parking garage sprung up, specifically highlighting the limousine and its two companion vehicles. "Do we know what rooms they're in?"

Twelve shook their head. "No, but if we destroy the vehicles then it really doesn't matter."

"Agreed, so what's the plan of attack?" Two asked.

"I think we should use Auntie's forces," said Five. "She is primarily based in that area and since she's not technically OMAR, it might take them by surprise."

"But this is our best shot at them we're likely going to get, can we really let such an important opportunity rest on her shoulders?" said Ten skeptically.

"We don't have a choice," said One reluctantly. "It'd take us too long to mobilize and if things fall apart, the United States would know we were up to something. We'll use Auntie and hope for the best and prepare for the worst."

Early Morning: Auntie's troops filed into the parking garage and took up positions amongst the various vehicles. At his Clydesdale, Slick yawned and woke up and noticed his surroundings. He didn't remember how he'd gotten to his vehicle, but he was there now, and he needed to get some business done first. And so a few moments later he found himself taking a leak behind his vehicle and then washed his hands with a nearby hose and soap.

As hopped on his hood and took a bite out of a protein bar he had on him and then had his morning coffee, he then casually walked over to see if the limousine was still there. To his surprise it was, and even more surprising was that Keiko was working on the motorcycle contraption next to it. She looked up to see him approach and was briefly startled when she saw him, but continued to work on her weapons systems.

"I thought I told you to get some sleep," he told her mildly disappointed.

"I did get some sleep, I normally function on less," she responded smugly. Slick snorted at that as he took another drink from his mug.

"I'll bet. Nice vehicle," he responded looking at it. "Custom built?"

Keiko nodded as she returned to her work. "I needed a vehicle that was as fast an agile as I am and so this was built to those specifications."

"I can see that," Slick agreed as he ran his hand over a metal attachment on the front end that was razor sharp. "So is that your father's limo?"

Keiko didn't respond to that, she just kept working on her vehicle. Slick let it go and continued drinking his coffee before he noticed some movement

"I think we've got company," he mentioned offhand as he saw troops scurrying amongst the vehicles. Keiko immediately stood up and looked off with her blue orbs as tension seemed to cross her face.

"OMAR," she said in a hushed tone as she gripped her katana that was strapped to her back. But Slick immediately stopped her when he gripped her arm.

"Don't take this the wrong way, while you might be able to take down a few of them with that, they'll get you eventually. Besides, a fight in here might bring down the hotel so just get in your vehicle and lead them away and I'll join you shortly in my Clydesdale," Slick advised her. Keiko seemed to take it under advisement before she shook her head.

"No," she said with a shake of her head, but before Slick could protest… "You'd never make it to your vehicle, take the Excelsior instead."

Slick couldn't formulate a response to that because that was not how he'd planned the conversation to go.

"I can't take your father's limo, he'd be furious!" he protested of the unseen entity.

"We don't have a choice, besides he'd be more upset if it got destroyed," responded the woman as she took a device and pointed it at the limousine and pressed a button on it.

"Get in, I'll give you further instructions over the radio," she ordered as she got into her vehicle. Slick watched her just long enough before she disappeared into her vehicle before he looked at the limousine in stunned stupor. He was about to try and make a movement for his Clydesdale when a bullet zipped past his head and the playboy dove to the floor. He then immediately crawled for the door of the vehicle and opened it and quickly got in before closing the door as another bullet ricocheted off the driver's side window.

"Shit!" shouted Slick as bullets began flying through the garage. Looking around the driver's compartment, he seriously wished he could revel in the leather seats and climate control, but he was too much in fervor to get the vehicle started.

"Mr. Clyde, are you there?" came Keiko's voice. "This is Obake."

"Well Ms. Obake, I think I would've been better off in my 4x4. I don't understand a thing about this HUD display and I kind of don't have the keys to start this baby up," the playboy complained as he looked at the advanced weapons display device in the dashboard next to the steering wheel.

"Do not worry it just looks more advanced than it is. As for the keys, the vehicle can be started up without them so place your thumb to the glass circle below the ignition switch," Obake advised as her vehicle came to life nearby. Slick looked skeptical about that, but now was not the time to argue so he pressed his thumb to the glass as a light emanated from it as if scanning his thumbprint.

Immediately the vehicle roared to life and the lights came on inside the cabin as the HUD display activated.

"Alright, we're in business," Slick confirmed as he looked over at the display. "Now how does this work?"

"It is a touchscreen so simply access the defensive menu and activate your shield," Obake told him as her vehicle rolled out into the driving area with its weaponry deployed and began firing on the OMAR agents.

Slick seemed skeptical about that but did as he was told and was amazed to see the screen respond to his physical input.

"Shields up and I can guess how I activate the weaponry," he told her as he went back to the prior screen and pressed the right buttons as weaponry deployed on the vehicle from hidden slots across it.

"Now I just need two more things from you before we go. The first is to not press the red button situated next to the dashboard radio and the second…," began the woman.

"What's with this device on top of the dashboard?" Slick asked, looking at a strange box with various buttons and switches on it and a date on and time on it, _yesterday's_ date.

"Ignore that too," Obake cut in to his line of thought before he could start fiddling with it to get the right date. "I just need you to say 'Dallas 13 activate'."

"What?" said Slick at a loss as Obake's vehicle moved forward despite the fire it was taking.

"Just do it!" Obake ordered. Slick grunted at that.

"Fine, 'Dallas 13 activate'," he responded unenthusiastically. The Palamino next to him suddenly came to life and the front device on its hood began pulsing as well. It then took up a position behind Obake's vehicle and then both moved towards the exit as Slick pulled the limousine out behind them and then all three vehicles left the parking garage despite fire from the OMAR agents.

But as soon as all three vehicles emerged from the garage they were immediately besieged by OMAR attack vehicles on the road.

"They never give up," commented Slick ruefully. "Let's get going, we need more room to operate than these city streets. I just need to get my bearings to figure out how to get us out of here."

"VOICE PRINT CONFIRMED, GPS ENABLED, SELECT DESTINATION," came a voice that startled to Slick to the point that he nearly drove off the road and made him drop the radio. On the screen, a map of Las Vegas appeared with a dot indicating the vehicle's position.

"The hell," began Slick.

"SELECT DESTINATION," the HUD repeated. Slick had to concentrate between driving the vehicle and looking at the image.

"I-uh-uh, set destination: outskirts of town closest distance," said Slick hopefully, though still a little astounded at talking to a computer.

"CALCULATING…Drive 4 miles then turn left," the machine said as the image switched to a street view behind the vehicle and displayed a path ahead of him.

"Right, let's go," said Slick into the radio as he hit the accelerator the vehicle surged forward as the playboy hoped this day wouldn't get any stranger. He then toggled the HUD screen and the bruiser cannon on top to fire at the enemy as he dropped the occasional roadkill mine as the three vehicles left the hotel.

Down in the garage, the old man emerged and noticed the lack of three specific vehicles sitting in their place. The man regarded this curiously before noticing the bodies littering the floor and walked up to one of the injured soldiers and immediately pressed his cane into the man's chest wound causing him to yell in pain.

"What happened here?" the man demanded icily. The soldier spat blood out in response.

"Screw you," he said defiantly, despite coughing hoarsely. In response, electricity erupted from the cane electrocuting the man.

"Don't make me ask twice," the old man warned. The soldier slowly nodded their head.

"We were here to destroy three vehicles but their owners found out we were coming and took off," the soldier complained bitterly. The old man took the cane off of the man's chest and nodded his head in silent agreement. That the soldier was wearing an outfit of Auntie Entity's militia answered the rest of his questions and so he only had to ask one final question.

"Did you see the drivers?" he asked. The soldier shook his head.

"I wish. Then I'd know who to kill besides you," was the response. The old man laughed at that and then summarily electrocuted the soldier to death before heading for the Clydesdale. Looking at the beat up blue and white vehicle, the man briefly ran his hand along on its exterior before getting inside the ratty interior and pulling down the visor that dropped the keys into his waiting palm and then started up the vehicle and left as well, following the sounds of the explosions down the road.

Outskirts of town: Sid, Beezwax, and Loki were at a parking lot outside the city arguing about which was going to go where when explosions were seen rising high in the distance.

"Early morning chaos, my kind of excitement," commented Sid wistfully. "But it doesn't matter because Loki is perfectly capable of scouting Site 4 on his own while we go after the Hoover Dam."

"I still disagree because the Hoover Dam is a non-essential target. We need to hit Site 4 now because we can't stand up against seven Vigilantes!" Beezwax continued arguing.

"Enough of that, we're hitting the dam and that's final!" Sid finished and headed for his vehicle to avoid any further rebuttals. Beezwax scowled at that and then headed for his own vehicle and Loki as well while explosions continued to pepper the area beyond the city.

Outskirts of Vegas: Fifteen of Auntie's vehicles raced through the desert as the Excelsior Stretch Limousine, Palamino, and Tsunami raced just ahead of them in parallel formation.

"Are we just going to keep running?" asked Obake with a mixture of curiosity and mild disgust.

"Hardly," said Slick lightly. "I was just waiting until we'd thrown up enough sand to obscure them from our sight. Now we're going to execute a three-prong split and come right at them."

"Yes, I'm familiar with the maneuver," responded Obake. "And so is Dallas."

Slick was surprised at that. "Really, because my plans for this maneuver aren't exactly what it might seem like based on the words alone."

"We'll be fine," Obake insisted.

"Okay. I just wish there was some way to maneuver this limousine around quicker, I planned this move with my 4x4 and it's a lot easier to turn with," was Slick's next thought.

A few moments of silence passed before Obake spoke up. "If you press the red button and perform the turn and then shut it off, you should be okay."

"I thought you said don't press the red button," Slick teased as the pounding from the OMAR vehicles only increased, rattling the three vehicles.

"Desperate times," was all Obake said back. "Ready to break!"

"Alright on three, two, one, go!" he shouted as he pressed the red button. The Tsunami broke left and the Palamino went right crossing the limo's path as the limousine began to shake as the sound of the wheels on the ground disappeared and then seemed to slightly rise up into the air. Rather than question it, Slick went along with it and turned the wheel and was astounded at how quickly the vehicle responded as it almost seemed to turn on a dime and was now racing back the other way. Although tempted to not re-press the red button, he did so as part of his promise, and then the vehicle shook as the wheels seemingly regained traction.

Nearby, the Clydesdale came to a halt and the old man climbed out of the vehicle and onto the roof with a pair of binoculars he'd obtained from the back of the vehicle. Glancing through them and adjusting the sight, he saw the limousine coming straight at the enemy forces while the Tsunami and Palamino performed arcs to the left and right to come at the enemy from the sides.

"Well done Slick, well done," the man declared, impressed. "Now let 'em have it!"

The three vehicles opened fire on Auntie's vehicles as dust completely obscured the battlefield. From inside the cloud, laser beams, missiles, and a wide assortment of other weaponry could be heard thereby creating flashes of light highlighting the occasional vehicle. And then an electrical blast tore through the area and several explosions could be seen across the area before the limousine, tsunami, and palamino emerged from the cloud without any pursuers.

The old man for his part climbed off the roof and tossed the binoculars into the back before noticing an object of interest and retrieving it from the vehicle as the three vehicles came to a halt in front of him. From the limo, Slick Clyde emerged and briefly chatted with Obake before giving a wave to the unseen occupant of the palamino before starting towards his vehicle as the old man did the same.

As the two got closer to each other, each regarded the other curiously, but neither made an attempt to slow their pace. Instead, the old man tossed the younger one his metal rod complete with a new focusing crystal atop it. And then both passed without saying a word as each knew what the other was thinking at that moment about the other's respective rides before they entered into their own vehicles and went their separate ways.

"Slick, where are you?" came John's voice over the radio. The playboy laughed, the war was never over, as he picked up the radio.

"Sorry, JT, I had to help some people out. I'm at the outskirts of town so just keep going and I'll catch up with you," he promised. As Slick prepared to get going again, he picked up his metal cane and admired the new crystal atop it. Attached to it was a note that he ripped off and looked at.

"_For helping my daughter, I thank you. But if I may offer some advice…,_" the note began as Slick flipped over the card. "_Let nothing stand in your way_."

The young man's expression downturned at that before he crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it with the rest of his trash in the passenger seat and then reluctantly thought better of it and smoothed out the paper and stuck it in the drink holder next to his coffee.

Behind him, a brilliant flash lit up the desert sky.


	17. Betrayal

A/N: For the sake of this battle, I'm assuming the Hoover Dam looks like the game's battle arena rather than looking like the real one.

Hoover Dam: Guards and other soldiers nervously patrolled the dam anxiously awaiting what they knew was coming in the form of whoever attacked the American Southwest. Although they had no way of knowing if that threat was actually coming, those in charge were well aware that the hostiles had attacked everything else in the vicinity and the dam was one of the few things left. This was why their defenses had been supplemented by the new M1 Abrams tanks on both entrances to the dam's upper level.

"We've got movement," said one of the guards on the tower looking through a pair of high-powered binoculars. "Looks like two vehicles on approach with another group further off behind them."

"Visual identification," the commander in charge called for over the radio.

"Looks like a black sports car with yellow flame decals on it along with a pickup truck with camper," the soldier responded. "I can't get a positive ID on the other vehicles just yet."

"Well that's good enough for now," said the commander turning off his radio before turning to his lieutenant. "While none of those vehicles match those that attacked the USAF base, it does match reports of the vehicles that attacked other targets in the southwest. We'll open fire as soon as they're in range."

"And the others are likely those opposing their efforts?" asked the lieutenant. The commander nodded.

"I suspect so," he agreed. "But we'll have to attack them all the same if they get close to the dam. I may sympathize with their efforts, but they're still outlaws."

"Yes sir," said the lieutenant, not any happier about it. But before he could respond further, the guard tower high above on the dam exploded raining fire and debris everywhere as Sid's Manta and Beezwax's Stag Pickup raced onto the scene firing on everything in sight.

Nearby: "Let's kick it you two!" shouted John as he saw the explosions in the distance and floored the accelerator as Slick and Chassey followed suit.

Elsewhere: 'Y' the Alien's flying saucer came to a sputtering halt as sparks flew from the various new gouges in its previously spotless metal form. The alien walked out and angrily kicked the saucer and began swearing in his native tongue about the astronaut known only as Bob O. Somehow the little moon rover's accursed pincers had succeeded in tearing through his shield and a good chunk of the armor before the alien had managed to nail the vehicle point blank with his laser cannon. Unfortunately, the alien wasn't entirely convinced the astronaut wasn't permanently out of his hair and so the alien had fled the scene headed for Site 4.

Unfortunately, the damage to his vehicle proved to be more extensive than he realized and it had cut out before fully reaching his destination which was still a few miles away and so the alien engaged the vehicle's auto-repair function and headed for the nearest town. It proved deserted which was hardly a surprise and so the alien took to examining what vehicles had been left behind. Unfortunately, the only one that looked relatively intact and would actually run was a Grubb Dual Loader Garbage Truck to the alien's dismay, but a ride was a ride and so the alien started it up and headed down the road towards Site 4. A Glenn 4x4 immediately drove past him and the alien swore to himself realizing that he hadn't disguised himself from prying eyes. Immediately grabbing the nearby garbage workers outfit hanging nearby, he threw on the unbuttoned shirt and hat and continued on his quest to eliminate the advanced technology at Site 4.

Nearby: The Vigilantes moved down the road unopposed as each was anxiously awaiting the end of the Auto Wars.

"Houston, how're you holding up?" asked Convoy over the radio as he noticed her car wobbling a little bit.

"Not so good," the woman confessed with a strained voice. "I think my programming is trying to reassert itself and it's taking all of my concentration to fight it off."

"Do you think you're better of stopping somewhere to…," he began, but wasn't sure how to end that sentence.

"No!" said Houston abruptly. "No, in fact what we're doing right now is what's giving me the will to endure to see it through to the end. I can't stop now; once it's over, then I'll have some choices to make."

"Fair enough, fair enough, we're glad to have you with us," the trucker conceded as he hung up his radio and resolved to keep an eye on Houston's condition, no matter what state she found herself in after this was all done.

On a nearby road, Loki raced towards Site 4 as well, while keeping an eye on the Grub Dual Loader he had just passed. He couldn't tell for sure, but he swore he saw an extraterrestrial driving it and if that was true, then it meant that his flying saucer was somewhere nearby…and Loki craved to fly one again.

Hoover Dam: Slick Clyde and Beezwax raced over the edge of the dam and began driving down the face of it while constantly hammering each other while up above, Chassey and John attempted to keep Sid busy while avoiding the constant attempts of the US Government to blow them up.

"Oh, these flares don't work on a tank!" Chassey groaned as she fired another round only to have them bounce off the vehicle's exterior armor.

"Then I'd say you have a problem little lady!" laughed Sid as he raced across a bridge towards the penstock towers behind the dam. "Kill or be killed, I say!"

"Go help Slick," John ordered as he raced down the opposite bridge linking the towers together and an inevitable confrontation with Sid.

"Right," Chassey agreed as she spread apart her hair that had covered her face and also raced over the edge, nearly avoiding the fire of the twin Abrams. But her problems didn't end there as a pair of AH-1 Cobra Attack Helicopters soared from over the side of the canyon wall and began firing on the Clydesdale and Stag Pickup below.

"And here I thought Site 4 was going to be the cakewalk," Chassey further complained. Slick laughed at that, which caused Chassey to get a competitive look on her face.

"Bet I can take him out faster than you can," she declared as she hit the bottom of the gorge and raced along the side of the river past the overflow tunnels.

"Ooh, feisty!" Slick declared pleased. "You're on, but what'll we wager?"

Chassey's Rattler raced alongside the Clydesdale, both in pursuit of the Stag.

"I know, but I'll tell you after I win," the FBI Agent teased. "How about you?"

"The same," the playboy responded lightly. "Better move fast CB, there's no points for second place."

His vehicle surged forward as Chassey laughed and did the same.

Site 4: "Look, I was just told to pick up the garbage from this place and that was it," said 'Y' the Alien to the guards outside. He was covered even more than before with none of his exterior showing except for a pair of goggles that covered his eyes. His muffled voice was being translated through the padd at his side in the approximation of a frustrated trucker who had spent too many hours on the road hauling this stuff.

"Yes, but there's no requisition for it," the guard insisted. To that the alien threw up his hands in defeat.

"Hey, I'm only more than happy to not haul your waste out of here but don't expect me to come back when you do have some," the alien threatened. "Just don't expect to find many other haulers who'll come out here because of the way things are. Then you'll be in deep shit, ahahahahaha!"

The scientist grimaced at that before pulling out a radio as the alien breathed an internal sigh of relief that some forms of humor were universal.

"Sir?" he said into it.

"What?" was the annoyed response.

"We have a garbage hauler looking to collect some waste, but I have no forms for it. Can I let him in?" the guard asked.

"Might as well," came the other person's voice. "It never hurts in case we don't see another hauler for awhile. Just check out the truck and inside the cabin and then let 'em through."

"Right," the soldier confirmed before quickly taking a search of the vehicle, followed by a brief search of the trash area, before popping up once more in the cabin.

"You're not going to try anything are you?" asked the guard finally.

"Here in this heap?" 'Y' asked, not having to fake the incredulity of such an idea. Or at least as incredible as the idea would have been had the alien not secretly outfitted the vehicle with several laser cannons.

"Right," acknowledged the officer. "Straight ahead and to the left."

The alien was about to leave when the officer stopped him once more.

"What name should I put on the forms?" he asked. 'Y' thought about it.

"Call me the Garbage Man," he declared and moved off into the compound. "_Because I'm about to take out the trash_."

Nearby: Loki finished cutting through the chain link fence before taking his Glenn 4x4 into the compound proper. Being a military vehicle to begin with, he easily blended in with the other traffic and proceeded to do a thorough sweep of the base.

On a nearby ridge, the Vigilantes sat clustered around Dave's van as he scanned the area below.

"Yeah, it seems like that 4x4 is the same one we've encountered in the past," Dave confirmed as Convoy stood nearby looking at the base with his binoculars. "And I'm also getting strange readings from that garbage truck, which I think means the alien is inside it."

"Well this just keeps getting better," complained Sheila a little miffed. Convoy didn't have a response for that. Instead he just put the arrivals into his calculations for their plan of attack.

"Hey, what's that?" Sheila asked, cutting into his thoughts.

…And then he saw something that made him do a double take as two new entries entered the field of combat racing for the destroyed hanger containing the advanced technologies.

Hoover Dam: The Jefferson and the Manta faced each other on the bridge overlooking the waters behind the dam as military boats raced all around them, defensively firing around the two vehicles. Above them, storm clouds gathered ready to drop rain on the entire area.

"**Sid**," John acknowledged with malice.

"Johnny," responded Sid amused. "How've you been?"

"You know how I've been and what I'm going to do to you," was the curt response. Sid laughed at that.

"Yeah, I wanted to thank you for not having fully overcome your baser instincts," the mercenary said. "It would've ruined my plans."

John's eyes narrowed at that as tiny flashes of lighting could be seen arcing overhead.

"Speaking of your plans, I don't understand why you're here," responded the scientist unflinchingly as a bullet ricocheted off the top of his car.

"I'm here to destroy-," began Sid when he was immediately cut off.

"I know that! But this isn't like you because this is a distraction from what's at Site 4! You always told me to never take your eyes off the road and right now you're driving on the shoulder. You shouldn't be here!" Torque shouted as the rains began pouring down. The rain began falling on the vehicles now, especially Sid's Manta, and then John noticed something that made it all come together.

"Because you're _not_ here, are you?" he asked in a hushed tone. Rain was falling through the Manta and landing on the concrete below it.

"No, Johnny, I'm not," the mercenary responded, pleased. "But like I said, thank you for falling pray to your baser instincts, I knew you wouldn't fail me."

"Yes of course, you knew I'd be here and I'd take half the Vigilantes with me," John realized in agony at his foolishness.

"Well, I was actually expecting your bonehead leader to be here, but your presence makes this more enjoyable," said the mercenary with a condescending smile. "You should've remembered one of the many rules I tried to impart to you during our time together…"

"Never trust anyone, especially if they're willing to tell you the truth," they both said in unison, both knowing the sequence of events that had led them to this dam. And then Sid's vehicle vanished as its image fuzzed out revealing a mass of Beezwax's mechanical bees.

"Goodbye Johnny," was Sid's final words as the bees raced straight for the bridge John was sitting on and rammed into it, severally weakening the structure.

Site 4: Houston squatted down behind her vehicle holding her head in pain as the Vigilantes hurriedly raced for their vehicles as Sid Burn's Manta and Beezwax's Stag Pickup hurried along the dirt roads of the compound headed eagerly for the hanger as Loki began peppering the area with his scatter missiles. Air raid sirens subsequently roared across the base as troops scattered headed for defensive positions as the remaining defensive laser cannons opened fire on the vehicles.

The final battle of the Auto Wars had begun.

Hoover Dam: Slick and Chassey were firing on the Stag Pickup to no avail, as both began to get the feeling that something was very wrong.

"Chassey, I-," began the playboy uncomfortably when John's voice broke in.

"Abort, you two, abort!" shouted John. "We've been duped. Beezwax and Sid Burn aren't here; these are holograms!"

"What?" was Chassey's bewildered response. "How is that even possible?"

"They must've found something at Site 4 to modify the mechanical bees to project an image, but they're not here. We have to get out of here before…!" began John's radio as it burst into static. Up above, the bridge that his Jefferson was finally gave way after the last bee slammed into it and his vehicle helplessly plunged into the waters below.

"John?" shouted Chassey nearly hysterical into her radio as the Stag Pickup vanished into a swarm of bees that immediately dispelled to the windows. "John Torque?"

The Cobras were beginning to get a lock on them as the vehicles raced around unsure where to go.

"Chassey, we've got to go," Slick ordered as he slammed on his brakes as the Rattler did the same.

"But we can't just leave him!" the FBI Agent protested. She normally wasn't one for hysterics, but somehow this turn of events had suddenly caused the whole weight of everything they had done to hit her hard. Explosions and bullets tore up the area around them from the forces high above and those on the ground near by as the helicopters began looming ever closer.

"I know, I know," Slick acknowledged, trying to help get over her momentary emotional crisis. "We'll have to come back for him later, but right now we need to survive long enough for that to happen."

Chassey slowly began gaining control over her thoughts and emotions as she cracked her knuckles to calm herself.

"Right," she agreed. "Right, let's go."

And then a proximity alarm sounded as one of the Cobras launched a missile at her.

Site 4: The Grubb Dual Loader came to a halt outside the main Site 4 complex building as all sorts of vehicles and equipment passed by on the grounds beyond. Bullets, missiles, laser beams, everything fired anywhere and everywhere as if everyone out there had a death wish to leave the circumstances of the situation they now found themselves in. But none of this necessarily mattered to the alien, only the distraction it now afforded him to complete his mission.

And so the alien held up a laser rifle in each hand and blew open the door to the base and entered the base and fired at anything that got in its way.

Hoover Dam: Chassey screamed as she tried to move her vehicle only to have its wheels spin in the waters. And then the missile struck.

THHOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMMM!

Chassey covered her head from the resulting fireball and prepared for her car violently rolling end over end, but in the end that sensation never came. Instead, Chassey lifted her head to see her vehicle was still sitting upright and having not moved. The FBI Agent was briefly surprised at this before a feeling of dread washed over her.

Looking to her side, she saw the destroyed Clydesdale flip end over end as it shook itself to pieces that flew everywhere.

"Oh no, Slick!" shouted Chassey as what was left of the vehicle came to a rest upside down and fires raced across the underside of it.

"Get out of here, Chassey," came Slick's raspy voice over the radio. "Don't argue, just go!"

Heavy coughing came over the radio before it went dead as Chassey looked over at the Clydesdale to see Slick roll out of it and collapse onto the ground with his metal lightning rod by his side. He saw Chassey's vehicle still there and implored her to take off, which the FBI Agent reluctantly did as she headed for one of the overflow pipes while one of the Cobras got another lock on her. But before it could fire, Slick with his last ounce of strength pressed the button on his cane and a lightning bolt struck the rear tail rotor of the helicopter causing it to spin around before its pilots ejected and the vehicle spun out on the ground throwing shrapnel everywhere as the playboy finally collapsed unconscious and was taken into custody.

Site 4: "But what happened to them going after the Hoover Dam?" asked Sheila as a tank shell flew over her vehicle and impacted nearby. "Did Houston lie to us?"

"I don't think so," Dave responded as he released his flying saucers that chased after Beezwax's vehicle. "More likely he changed his mind."

Convoy's vehicle was now racing neck and neck with the Manta as both vehicles mercilessly hammered each other with their bruiser cannons.

"But then they should've realized they'd been duped and come back!" he yelled over the heat and noise of his engine. "So where are they?"

"Dead by the US Government by now, I'd think," was Sid's vicious response to that. "Call it poetic justice. Ahahahahahaha!"

Convoy's teeth clenched together as he violently slammed his vehicle into the Manta.

"If they're dead, then so are you!" he shouted angrily. Sid could only laugh at that as he did at all of the Vigilante's frustrations.

"You'll have to catch me first!" he responded arrogantly as his vehicle pulled away from the Moth Truck. But before Convoy could give chase, his vehicle was descended upon by an angry swarm of killer mechanical bees.

Hoover Dam: Slick had hazy images of being dragged through a series of tunnels before being shoved onto a chair and handcuffed to it before a cold bucket of water was splashed on his face. He slowly came to and found himself in an even colder jail cell with a group of army officials in front of him, barely visible seeing as the only light came from a single bulb above the playboy's head.

"Great, a clandestine military outfit operating out of the Hoover Dam," he stated annoyed at being in a clichéd situation. "Let me guess, you're secretly harboring a giant robot down in the basement that you're keeping frozen to prevent him from getting out and destroying mankind."

The General laughed at that before shaking his head.

"Hardly, and in fact we're not a clandestine organization either, we're just the regular military around here," he told him. "In fact if it were up to me, I'd let you go. Oh sure you damaged our equipment, but at least you're trying to actively defend this country."

"So why aren't you letting me go?" Slick wondered aloud. The General snorted at that.

"Because you and your other friend we dragged out of the drink are still criminals," the General answered frankly as Slick breathed an internal sigh of relief that John was still alive and Chassey apparently still safe. "That and we all have our superiors to answer to."

With that the army men filed out leaving only one individual behind in his suit with jacket hanging over his shoulder.

"Let me guess, CIA?" Slick asked pointedly as he groaned. "You suits are all alike."

The man didn't display any emotion at that; he just lit a cigarette that briefly illuminated his face.

"You're not an easy man to get a hold of Slick Clyde," the CIA Agent told him.

"Good, I don't like to be caged," Slick told him angrily, not even bothering to care that the man knew his name. "So what can I do for you because I haven't done anything that'd warrant your kind of attention."

"Haven't you, though?" asked the Agent condescendingly. "Do I really need to remind you about what happened in Salt Lake City?"

Slick simmered at that statement. "If you're that well versed in your history then you should know that it was never proven that I was ever involved in what happened there."

"I don't agree with that assessment and neither does Agent Blue," the Agent responded. The mention of Chassey caused Slick's blood to boil as he glared at the Agent with pure malice in his eyes. To his surprise, that look caused the agent to shift uncomfortably.

"**Do I scare you Agent Chase?**" goaded Slick with an evil smile across his face. The Agent just took another puff of his cigarette to delay his response.

"Not yet," R. Chase admitted and then pulled up a chair so that he and Slick could see each other in the light.

"Why are you really here, Chase?" Slick had to know as he leaned back in his chair as best he could. "If Chassey's reaction was anything, it seems like you told her to be careful of me."

"She should absolutely be wary of you," the Agent snapped back. "What happened in Salt Lake was just a tiny fraction of what you're truly capable of and that's what scares me the most. If you had the resources, the opportunity, and the motivation, I would be scared of what you'd be capable of."

"Just say what you have to say and either arrest me, kill me, or get lost!" Slick snapped back, having no desire to revisit Salt Lake. R. Chase nodded his head as he took one long drag on his cigarette.

"One day you're going to be confronted with a choice between two different paths your life can go down. When that happens, I hope you have the courage to just walk away," Agent Chase revealed as he stood back up.

"**I'm no coward**," Slick declared as he looked up at the Agent with intensity burning behind his stare. The Agent looked down at him with a look of pure pity.

"If you're not, then untold countless numbers of people will die as a result," the Agent promised. "And I will be there to stop you."

With that the Agent turned to leave when Slick called out to him once more.

"Good, because I love a challenge," he told him as the Agent paused briefly in his tracks as a wave of pure fear washed over his body before he immediately expelled it with a breath.

"Just don't make a decision that I know you'll regret for the rest of your life," the Agent told him as he continued to leave.

"Why are you so afraid of me?" Slick demanded repeatedly, but then the Agent was gone and that was all Slick could wonder in silence.

As the Agent made his way back topside, he approached his vehicle and took out a flask and immediately took a sip from it before noticing a piece of paper stuck to his windshield wiper.

"_You can't stop him and you can't stop me, Agent Chase_," the note read, undoubtedly from the old man, as the Agent angrily crumpled it up and tossed it aside before getting in his car and driving off. But as he got on the main road, he was immediately pursued by Chassey's Rattler. After a few miles, the Chrono Stinger came to a halt and the Agent reluctantly got out and was immediately slammed against his vehicle by the woman.

"You tell me what's really going on here!" she demanded.

"Such as?" asked the Agent dismissively. "I've told you all you need to know right now."

"Why do you care about him?" Chassey angrily spat at him.

"Why do you?" the Agent shouted back in a brief emotional outburst. "He's not as altruistic as the rest of you; he's here for his own ends!"

"So are we to an extent," Chassey declared as he backed off. "I'm here on assignment!"

"And so am I," the CIA responded as he straightened his dress shirt. "So we're both on the same side, here."

"We might both have the same goals, but we're not on the same side," Chassey told him harshly as she headed back for her vehicle. "And he won't become the person you think he will."

"We both know that isn't true," the Agent pointed out. Chassey turned to look at him with blood stained eyes that had the hint of dried tears on them.

"And how do you know that? Because your badge and your license plate sticker say 2017 on them, is that what gives you that right?" she shot back that caught the agent off guard.

"Ms. Blue do you really think I'm from the future?" he accused doubtfully. "Because if that's the case then you're only fooling yourself because time travel isn't possible. But the evil that Slick Clyde is capable of most certainly is."

"If you ever speak badly of my teammate again you'd better not be in any other Vigilante's presence and especially not mine," Chassey promised him. "I don't care if you're from the future or not, you have no right to condemn anybody on this team."

"Look, Chassey," the agent relented. "Do what you feel you have to do, but never forget that he will one day betray you. Now get going, your friends need you at Site 4."

And then Agent got into his vehicle and Chassey watched him drive off leaving the FBI Agent alone on the road with her thoughts in turmoil before she got in her vehicle and raced off in the direction of Convoy and the others.

At Site 4, the fighting only continued…


	18. Final Fight

Hoover Dam: John Torque was lying on a cot when he slowly came to and briefly spat up some water before rolling onto his side and looking downright miserable. He vaguely recalled his car plunging into lake and nearly drowning before passing out. That he was still alive was a miracle, though the scientist reasoned that the military had seen fit to fish him out of the drink after Sid had tried to kill him.

"You okay, JT?" asked a voice cutting into his thoughts. John groggily propped himself up and saw Slick Clyde sitting in a jail cell next to him with his right hand on his knee and aimlessly twirling his cane with it.

"I feel like I've been a million leagues under the sea," he responded lightly before hacking up more water and then lying back down on his bed. Slick briefly cracked a smile at that, but John could see that something had changed in the playboy's eyes. The young man had a haunted look in his eyes laced with an underlying current of anger.

"You okay, kid?" John had to ask. Slick shrugged as he continued twirling his cane.

"I've been better," he admitted but refused to say any more. John sighed.

"Out with it, kid," he ordered forcefully. Slick finally stopped twirling his cane and held it parallel to the floor as he gripped it tightly.

"Do you think I'm a threat?" the playboy asked seemingly out of the blue to the scientist.

"What kind of garbage is that?" Torque demanded.

"Just answer the question!" Slick shot back. "Am I danger to society?"

John couldn't even begin to figure out how to answer that question.

"I'm no psychologist," was all he could admit to while still trying to figure out why Slick had asked him this question at all.

"No, but I value your opinion more than I would anyone else's right now," Slick told him bluntly. That made John feel a little better than he had in the past few days since this war had started.

"I think you've got your own inner demons that you're fighting right now and they're some pretty strong ones," the scientist remarked as Slick slightly bristled at that. "But we all have to do that at one time or another. I know that better than anyone and I'm just fortunate that I had the support to move past it, even after what Sid did to my family."

"Can you tell me about your relationship with Sid?" Slick asked softly. "I would really like to know."

To say that that was an area John didn't want to revisit was an understatement, but something about the way Slick had toned his request made him realize that it was very important that he know.

"I'm not even sure where to begin. I knew Sid for a long time, starting way back in college. We both got our education in engineering and since the only real jobs were in the weapons divisions of various private industries; that's where we went. We bounced from job to job while trading notes every so often but we never found a common firm to work for, but then fate intervened. The situation in the Middle East was quickly heading south and the United States and Britain began working on joint defense projects to develop some way of easily arming anything that moved should their military forces begin to fall," John began. Slick was not sitting up, completely entranced by this story as he leaned forward on his cane.

"Sid and I were immediately drafted into the project and sent overseas to Britain. There we worked on all kinds of black ops projects using technology that I only realize now came from the future," Torque said uncomfortably. "In the end we developed the weaponry you find now on all vehicles from the mosquito guns to even some special weapons like Sid's Molotov Cannon. Looking back on it, we only ended up accelerating the chaos that was yet to come."

"Why's that?" asked Slick, surprised that John had had as much to do with vehicle weaponry as he did.

"Sid always did have a bit of a sadistic side to him. I figured it was just a result of the madness that was gripping the world but it was more than that. Sid became convinced that with the technology we were developing, we could rule it and rule with might and right…or something like that," said John offhand. Slick snorted at that.

"So you naturally refused," he remarked. John nodded his head.

"Of course I did. Needless to say he didn't take it well. I was expecting a fight and I got one. One day Sid attacked the research facility in his Manta and I went after him in my Jefferson. By the end, the research facility was destroyed and everyone on the research time aside from Sid and me were dead. I barely made it back to the States before global affairs boiled over and Sid escaped as well and became the mercenary he is today," the scientist continued with a slightly haunted look on his face that looked like Slick's had earlier.

"Then how did-,"

"Because Sid had been secretly selling the plans to ruthless organizations throughout the world and OMAR would shortly use those weapons to take over the Middle East," John explained. "So now you see that…"

Slick nodded solemnly. "How did you cope?"

"With the bottle and I still would be with it had Convoy not convinced me to come along with you guys and try and do something to make for the things I have done," said John. "And I know my brothers would be proud of me now."

Slick nodded his head at that as he began twirling his cane again.

"So again, kid, why bring it up?" asked the scientist again. The cane again stopped twirling.

"Because I ran into that CIA Agent that Chassey and Convoy ran into and he seemed to be afraid of me…afraid of what I might become," the playboy answered. John gave a grunt at that.

"Does he have a reason to be?" John had to ask as he finally sat up and held his head in his hands as he now had a raging headache.

"He might…he might not," said Slick as he began twirling his cane again. "You said it yourself we all have skeletons in our closet."

"Any you'd care to bring out?" asked John, hopeful. The cane once more stopping its twirling answered that question.

"It never hurts to talk about these things," the scientist tried to make him realize. "Telling Convoy about what happened felt like a great weight off my shoulders even if there was nothing he could do about what had happened."

Slick sat in silence at that.

"I wish I could be the same as you, JT, but I'm not," Slick confessed sadly. "I did something very bad once and when I did I caught a glimpse of something underneath that I tried to ignore it and pretend it never happened. But I keep seeing it again and again and again, and it's getting stronger each time. I saw it at the strip club, I saw it when I joined your little group of Vigilantes, I saw it at the resort, I especially saw it at the Sandworx factory, and then when I met that CIA Agent, he saw it in me. He was scared of who I was and terrified about what I could become."

"And how did that make you feel?"

"**Great**," admitted Slick darkly. "For once someone who I wanted to be afraid of me was afraid of me. It felt better than I anticipated it to be. I want to be feared, I need to be feared. I WILL BE FEARED!"

"Congrats kid, congrats," said John annoyed refusing to be baited by Slick's delusional ramblings. "Just keep in mind it's lonely at that top when everyone fears you."

"I'm already lonely right now," the playboy confessed. John snorted at that.

"You can't be lonely, you've got us," he pointed out. "Convoy secretly likes to think of us Vigilantes as a family of sorts. Sure we're a little dysfunctional, but who isn't these days?"

"Yes, but what happens after this war is done?" Slick asked pointedly. "We go our separate ways and never see each other again."

"What difference does that make?" Torque said dismissively. "Home and family are something you also carry with you in your heart. Ugh, I sound like a bleeding heart, but it's true."

Slick didn't have a response to that, though he grinned a little inside at the last comment.

"Look John, if I do go off the deep end I need you to promise me that you'll be the one to take me out," Slick requested. John Torque yawned at that.

"Yeah sure kid, whatever," he promised sleepily. "Look, I'm gonna turn in so don't do anything stupid like bust us out of here while I'm asleep. Goodnight Lord Clyde, say hi to Slick if you see him while I'm out."

And then the scientist was lightly snoring away as Slick snorted at that as he pressed the button on his cane and electricity rippled across the focusing crystal.

"No promises, old friend, no promises," he said lightly before letting go of the button and the electricity stopped. And then he laid back in his cot and soon was fast asleep as well.

Site 4: Beezwax's camper slammed through the debris at the front of the demolished hanger before coming to a halt as the crazed beekeeper made a mad dash into the remains of the advanced technology.

"Dave, go after him!" Convoy ordered. "Sheila provide cover support!"

"Roger," was the hippie's response as he peeled off and away towards the hanger with Sheila following suit. As they did so, they were immediately descended upon by a group of Huey's that immediately opened fire on them.

"Bomb's away!" shouted Loki as another scatter missile shot into the air and ripped a regiment of M1 Abrams to shreds when it broke apart and detonated its deadly payload.

"_We've got to find a way to stop him or the armed forces are doomed_," Convoy thought desperately before his attention turned to the Palamino in formation next to him. "Houston, see if you can't do something about Loki."

He didn't get a response as the car next to him began driving erratically now.

"Houston, are you okay?" asked the trucker with dread. The weapons on the vehicle now began slowly training themselves on the Moth Truck.

"Its okay, Houston," he reassured her. "I know you're no longer in control of your actions and I won't hold what you're about to do against you."

"Thank you, Convoy," came a forced but very soft whisper over the radio.

"You'd better run," Sid butted in, pleased with this turn of events. The Palamino opened fire on the truck.

Nearby: On a ridge overlooking the base, the trio that had caused so many problems for OMAR and the US Military over the past few weeks was overlooking the chaos reigning below.

"I always wanted to see this and it was worth it," commented the old man as he looked through his electro-binoculars at the battle. "You can see that the Vigilantes were not as well oiled team as the Coyotes, but they made up for it in terms of dedication and sheer will to succeed against the odds. Pay attention to their tactics carefully because as Sun Tzu wrote: _So it is said that if you know your enemies and know yourself, you can win a hundred battles without a single loss. If you only know yourself, but not your opponent, you may win or may lose. If you know neither yourself nor your enemy, you will always endanger yourself._"

Obake nodded her head in acknowledgement of that while Dallas said nothing and each continued to watch the battle with interest. Slick in particular watched the battle of the Moth Truck and the Palamino.

"I always did wonder which of those two was better," he commented aloud.

Site 4 Installation Building: The control room was just as chaotic as the outside with the remaining soldiers trying to maintain order and route troops as image screens showed the battles outside and the battle inside against the alien intruder.

"Sir," said a lieutenant as he held a bandage to his head after having been hit by a piece of the ceiling tile. "I think we may need to consider exercising a Base Delta Zero."

That piece of commentary caused the whole room to come to a complete stand still.

"Yes, I think you may be right," the General admitted. "All personnel get ready to evacuate to Echo Base, we leave in fifteen minutes."

The personnel quickly made for the door leaving behind a mass of paperwork behind as the general and lieutenant made their way to a nearby console.

"Never thought we would have had to suggest this, much less use it," the lieutenant confessed as he fished out a key that was hanging around his neck as the general did the same.

"It is an unfortunate state of events this country now finds itself in, but a plan is in place and the United States of America will rise again," the Generals as he too produced a key and both placed them in opposite slots and twisted them in unison. "All we need is the resources and the minds at Echo Base to accomplish that."

"I hear that," the lieutenant agreed as a monitor sprung up with a simple series of commands available for it. The general first entered in his password as the lieutenant did the same and then the general toggled the option for fifteen minutes.

"It's somehow fitting that pressing the y button on this keyboard will bring about the end of that accursed 'Y' the Alien's life," the general commented before he pressed it and then both officers left the room for the evacuation transports.

"Danger. The emergency self-destruct system is now activated. This base will self-destruct in 'T' minus fifteen minutes. You know have fifteen minutes to reach minimum safe distance," the emergency alert voice declared over the bullhorns around the base.

"Uncle C!" shouted Sheila after she heard that. Nearby, Convoy deftly dodged the laser cannons and Molotov cannon shots from his two attackers. "What do we do now?"

Convoy's head was now running with a million thoughts in his head before one thought pushed through the rest of them and he instantly expelled all his doubt and worry in one long breath.

"Hey, let's get wild okay?" he ordered simply as a broad grin covered his face as he promptly reached up and pulled a lever he never thought he'd pull. Out of the sides of his vehicles, two doors opened and a pair of tires rolled out and bounced towards the two nearby vehicles.

"That's it?" asked Sid disappointed. Convoy shook his head.

"Steel Belter!" he yelled into his radio as the tires bounced off the two vehicles, which instantly set off the dynamite the trucker had crammed into their folds. The ensuing explosions flung both vehicles off of their wheels and tumbled off in opposite directions.

"Thanks, I needed that," said Sheila over the radio about Convoy's earlier usage of her catchphrase.

"That's what family's for," the trucker said comfortingly. "Look Sheila, I-."

"I know, Uncle Convoy, I know," said Sheila reassuringly as she finished covering Dave's entrance to the hanger and then quickly took up an escort position in front of the trucker. Nearby, Sid and Houston regained control of their vehicles and began menacingly began making arcs around the two vehicles.

"C'mon Uncle C, you know there ain't nothing 'em that can stop a convoy!" shouted Sheila as she raced towards Houston's vehicle as Convoy just shook his head in humility before going after Sid once more.

Inside the base, 'Y' the Alien gave his final regards to his alien brethren before finally vaporizing their corpses. But with the alarms going off, the little green guy had little time to spare as the alien recharged his weapons and ran out into the hallway headed for the escape vehicles the staff intended on taking.

And then after several minutes of searching, it found it in the form of an underground subway train that was ready to leave the station.

"You now have six minutes to reach minimum safe distance," came the PA announcement before 'Y' blasted the nearest speaker.

"Hello 'Y', that was a little unnecessary wasn't it?" the general pointed out. The alien lowered his guns and glaring once more at the new head of Site 4. Around them, the crowds rushing to enter the subway before the doors closed and it departed.

"Going somewhere?" the alien accused.

"Aren't we all?" the general stated. The alien looked past him and the remaining straggling scientists to see the track lead a short distance to a straight wall.

"Short trip?" the alien asked further.

"Aren't they all?" the general repeated on a similar theme. The alien's expression turned to an angry glare.

"You have no idea what you're messing with," the alien promised.

"I think we do," the general reassured him. "There are more things on heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

"Shakespeare," the alien commented. The general nodded.

"Time travelers, aliens, advanced technology, multinational conglomerates bent on world domination, the list goes on," the general waxed nostalgic as the doors on the subway began closing. "But the worst is yet to come, you already know that don't you?"

"Yes, I know," the alien confirmed as he pointed his shakily weapons at the general. "And you know what I have to do."

"You can't stop it from happening, anymore than I can," the general insisted unafraid. "It is coming from the darkness and there is nothing we can do to stop it. All we can do is prepare for its arrival and the war to come. So lower your weapons and allow me to leave. You know what your part in the coming struggle is and this isn't it."

The guns slowly lowered.

"You know have three minutes to reach minimum safe distance," said the distant loudspeaker.

"You'd better go," the general told the alien as he boarded the train as the doors began to close on him.

"Don't do this!" the alien shouted vainly at him. The general shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "But we all have to do what we have to do."

The subway train slowly left the station and then a device on the nose of the train fired a beam of energy at the wall that tore a hole in space and time, which sucked up the entire vehicle before closing again.

"You now have one minute to reach minimum safe distance," the speaker droned on. The alien yelled loudly and fired his lasers at the wall and blew it to bits.

"I HATE THIS MISERABLE PLANET!" he yelled at the heavens. And then he re-slung his weapons and ran for the exit as the underground room began shaking.

Surface: Two cruise missiles lifted off from their silos and off into the blue skies above. After reaching a certain height, their engines shut off and both plummeted back towards the surface.

Hanger: Beezwax was furiously rooting through all the pieces of technology he could find as across the ruined warehouse, Dave was doing the same. Both realized that they should be stopping the other and yet the desire to find what they were looking for overrode that notion.

And then the ground rumbled as the missiles shot high into the air, clearly visible from the ruined hanger.

"Dave, get out of there!" said Sheila over the portable walkie the hippie had in his jacket pocket.

"I can't, not yet!" he shouted. "I'm so close, closer than I've ever been before!"

"Dave, walk away," Sheila pleaded further. "It's not worth your life!"

Dave couldn't bring himself to answer that, he just continued to searching as Sid Burn raced into the warehouse and began searching with Boogie.

"Da-," began his good friend when Convoy cut her off.

"Do you what you have to do my friend, we're pulling out," the trucker ordered. The sound of engines moving away could be heard. "Come on, Sheila!"

"I can't just leave him!" shouted Sheila in vain.

"No choice," the trucker insisted. "Chassey."

"Gridlock!" shouted the new arrival's voice as the sounds of phosphorescent flares could be heard flying through the air.

"No-!" began Sheila before static ripped through as her radio died.

"FOUND IT!" shouted Beezwax as he held up a large box with a LCD display readout, two metal bars on each side for easy holding, and four large buttons just below the display. At the top left read a single word and number: Chronowarp 2017.

"Fire it up!" yelled Sid over the whistling sound of the missiles plummeting back to earth.

"Give me a moment to understand the interface," the beekeeper responded as the whistling grew louder and the missiles appeared overhead.

"We don't have a moment!" shouted Sid before he noticed Dave rushing them and reached for his rifle.

At that point, time seemed to slow down. Dave could feel his heart thumping loudly in his chest as his feet crunched the ground below him. Sid slowly pulled out his rifle and aimed it at the hippie and slowly squeezed down on the trigger. Outside, the Vigilantes and Coyotes fled the scene as the missiles dropped on the base.

An explosion filled the base as it began disintegrating everything in and around it. The explosion quickly approached 'Y' the Alien and his garbage truck and the alien made some fierce typing on his padd before they were engulfed in the fireball. The fireball soon reached the fuel depot which only further enflamed the area as the soldier barracks went up as well. It then ripped through hanger after hanger before finally reaching the demolished hanger.

Inside, the three individuals were sweating profusely as the far wall melted and the flames grew closer and closer. And then Beezwax yelled in triumph as he pressed one final button on the device as it began glowing while Sid squeezed the trigger on his rifle while Dave leapt into the air at the mercenary.

And then the hanger exploded…and the auto wars came to an end.

On a nearby ridge, Chassey, Convoy, and Sheila watched the destruction helplessly. Sheila was in tears, Chassey felt terrible but knew there was nothing she could have done, and Convoy was in a mild state of shock.

"_You did the right thing kid_," he felt in silence. And then the trio slowly moved away from the ridge, each feeling miserable that although it should've been a momentous occasion with the end of the auto wars; that the loss of their comrade and imprisonment of two others meant that they'd lost half their forces in the last two battles when before they'd been doing so well together.

Nearby, the old man, Dallas, and Obake watched the Vigilantes leave before the two younger members turned to their leader.

"Let's go, we have a date with destiny," the old man declared. "Slick Clyde is about to make a decision that will affect his entire life and I need to see that he makes the right one."

The three boarded their vehicles and then a light wind billowed from beneath their vehicles as the wheels on the vehicles turned ninety degrees to point downwards and all three rose high up into the air and shot off towards the eastern horizon.


	19. Epilogue

Convoy's Gas Station: The three glum Vigilantes were sitting at the barstools with their drinks in front of them when the sound of screeching tires was heard outside. Turning to look out the window of the front door, they watched as a military APC lay halted outside and one its side doors opened. John Torque hopped out and straightened his jacket before reaching in and shaking the hand of whoever was inside. After a few moments passed, Slick Clyde was summarily tossed out the side of the vehicle onto the ground. The playboy subsequently hauled himself up and engaged in some heated words with the unseen occupants of the vehicle before his cane was launched out of it and pegged him between the eyes causing him to collapse to the ground as the door on the vehicle shut and it roared off away from the station.

"I told you to _not_ try to escape. You're lucky they still let you go after Chassey got the FBI to drop the charges against us," said John as he opened the door to the station. Slick just rubbed the bridge of his nose while grasping the cane in his free hand.

"Everyone's a critic," the playboy grumbled as the two sat at the free barstools.

"Hey guys," said Chassey lightly. "Glad to see my connections were still good for something."

"And we thank you for that," John responded gratefully as he produced an MRE and began chowing down on it. "Especially after pretty boy here tried to institute an escape attempt that ultimately failed."

That brought a light grin to slightly lift the group's mood.

"What happened?" asked Sheila, wanting to get her mind off of her previous thoughts.

"Oh, let's just say Slick forgot that water and electricity don't mix and so when he tried to break free and was confronted by soldiers outside his jail cell he wound up blasting the door of its hinges and electrocuting himself in the process with his cane," said John bemused as Slick turned a shade of red. "Probably wound up saving his life as the general figured it didn't technically qualify as a prison break."

Chassey and Sheila laughed at as even Convoy gave a brief snort.

"Well done, Slick, well done," they all said in unison and then laughed some more. And then the moment passed and the three went back to their silent contemplation of their drinks.

"He was a good man, probably one of the few who had any idea what I was talking about," said the scientist of the absent hippie. Although no one had specifically told them about what had happened at Site 4, they had heard of its destruction and the lack of one member of their team spoke for itself. Slick chose to say nothing at that moment, the past was an area he refused to revisit in any form; all that mattered was the future. Still, he silently said a thank you for the fellow vigilante and then turned to the others.

"I think he'd want us to remember the good times and get on with our lives," he found himself stating to his surprise. "Enjoy life while we can because who's to say where or when the next threat may come from."

The others had to agree with that as each slowly got up from their chairs and headed outside.

"So what are your plans, old friend?" asked Convoy of John Torque. The scientist placed his hand over his eyes to give him some shade from the morning sun.

"I've got an old friend who has been begging for my Jefferson for some time to add to his collection. I think after all this that I'm finally ready to trade it in and move on with my life," the scientist admitted before his expression brightened. "Maybe I'll upgrade to one of those new Thunderbolts, yeah! The cars have been built!"

The scientist picked his duffel bag off the ground and slung it over his shoulder. "I think I'll catch the local bus and head east to go see him, the army should've delivered the car there by now. After that, I don't know. It'll be hard to go back to normal living after this, maybe I'll find some career path along similar lines."

"Try bounty hunter," suggested Chassey offhand.

"Maybe," said John Torque shrugging, but not totally dismissing the notion. "Well, I'm sure I'll see you guys again when that new threat arises."

"Happy trails old friend," Convoy told him and hugged his good friend. John nodded his head and saluted and then headed towards the highway. Slick watched him go with mixed feelings before shrugging it off as Convoy led Sheila aside and Slick found himself alone with Chassey.

"Too bad we didn't win that contest," the FBI agent admitted.

"Ah, I'm sure you'd have won it anyway," said Slick dismissively as he leaned against the hood of her vehicle. "Too bad, my wager would've been one for the ages."

Chassey chuckled at that. "I can imagine, but maybe this will at least partly make up for it."

The FBI Agent gave her companion a long kiss on the cheek.

"Babe, you're the greatest!" said Slick appreciatively as he touched that cheek in bliss before turning more serious. "So I guess you're done with the Bureau now, huh?"

Chassey nodded as she produced a canteen and drank from it.

"Yep, I quit the moment you and John were released. Now I'm off to Hollywood!" she said enthusiastically. Slick gave a brief grin at that before his expression dropped.

"I wish you luck, but I'm sure you won't need it," he responded as he threw his hands in jean pockets and exhaled a long breath. Chassey placed her hand on his shoulder, knowing his trepidation about all of the team breaking up after what seemed like such an incredible ordeal that had bonded them together in ways they still could not yet realize.

"Hey, you could come with me if you want," she offered truthfully. Slick grabbed her hand and held it in his own.

"If this had been the start of our mission, I'd have said yes without a second thought," he admitted. "But over the course of this war I've had to face parts of myself I thought I long since buried. And then we ran into that CIA guy who seemed genuinely afraid of me and I felt proud that he felt that way. I need to discover who I am first before I can make any choices about my future."

Chassey looked down at Slick's hands clasping her own before placing her free hand over his.

"No one but you is going to make yourself become the villain," she promised poignantly and then their hands separated. "Don't be a stranger, Slick."

"I won't," he promised as he stood back up and opened the door for Chassey to get into her vehicle.

"I can feel it Slick, you are going to change the world someday," she told him. "I just hope when you do, that I'm there to see it."

Slick reached into his shirt pocket and produced his sunglasses, which he handed over to the FBI Agent who accepted them gratefully before peeling off in her vehicle leaving the playboy alone. Slick stood there for a few moments as he watched her vehicle vanish from sight before turning to look at Convoy and Sheila who looked at him expectantly. But all the playboy did was give a brief wave before he headed back into the station.

As soon as he entered, Houston's Palamino came to a halt and the two Vigilantes immediately took up defensive positions as the door to the vehicle opened and Houston 3 struggled out.

"I won't be a pawn of OMAR, any longer!" she shouted as sparks flew off of her armband and she forced herself towards the bathroom area. Convoy and Sheila cautiously approached her.

"I need a knife," she requested as she approached the bathroom door. Sheila looked at her like she was crazy, but Convoy could see the look of desperation on her face that if she didn't free herself of OMAR control now, that she'd never get another chance.

And so he handed her a knife and the cyborg disappeared in the bathroom. From outside the two could hear labored breathing before Houston let loose a bone-chilling scream and then silence. After a few moments of silently debating whether to open the door, it suddenly slammed open and Houston leaned against the doorframe looking very ragged and out of breath.

"It's done," she declared and then collapsed into Convoy's arms unconscious. As the two looked at her, they noticed that she no longer had her armband and her previously milky white eyes had regained their normal pupils.

"C'mon, let's get her to the nearest hospital," Convoy ordered as he and Sheila get her into the truck and then both headed off down the road.

Inside: Slick heard the engines move off into the distance as he walked over to the sink and poured himself a glass of water. He was so greatly enjoying slaking his thirst in the seemingly empty diner that he subsequently did a spit take when a voice reached his ears.

"Hello, Slick," said a familiar voice. Whirling around and quickly and wiping his mouth, the playboy produced his cane and aimed it at the source of the voice.

"You!" he declared as electricity sparked off of it. At the far end of the bar sat the old man in one of the booths whose limousine the playboy had appropriated earlier.

"Yes me," the man confirmed. "Won't you please have a seat?"

Slick eyed the man suspiciously before slowly lowering his cane and approaching the man and sat opposite to him.

"I know you, don't I?" Slick realized. "You're the mystery man from the ski resort!"

The old man nodded humbly. "Very good, I'm glad to see you're as sharp as ever. I of course remember you and I've actually been following your exploits for some time."

"Any particular reason?" the younger man asked, wanting to know why he was of so much interest to a man that seemingly had everything.

"Because Chassey Blue was right, you are going to change the world someday," the old man told him. Slick groaned at that.

"Great, another screwball claiming I'm going to something great with my life," he remarked annoyed. The old man laughed.

"Yes, but we both know it's true!" the man declared also frustrated. "You have passion, drive, and a vision for the future. It's just that you bury those parts of your personality because you've seen how others react when you display them. But they're always going to fear greatness when it comes before them, it's just human nature. But you're not like everyone else as I already said. If they won't join you, then they'll only betray you out of that fear and you need to get past your fear of that."

Slick chewed on that thought for a few minutes before looking at the older man frankly.

"I'm assuming something similar happened to you?" he accused. The old man also leaned back in his seat and clasped his hands in front of him.

"Yes, it did," the man confirmed. "I too had a vision and the people I thought were my friends couldn't accept that vision and so they turned against me."

"So what did you do about it?" asked Slick taking out a stick of gum and began chewing on it.

"Like I told you back at the resort, if it drives by blow it up," the man declared harshly. "I did what I had to do just like they did. But I had the determination to see that my vision succeeded and I was not about to let anything stand in my way. I'm still achieving that vision even to this day."

"So then why are you telling me all of this? Looking for a protégé old man?" Slick goaded. The old man laughed at that.

"Hardly. I'm here because that CIA Agent was right, that you _are_ facing a crossroad in your life. You're going to be confronted with a choice very soon between a life of mediocrity and a life of significance and I wanted to make sure that you knew the other half of the story that the CIA Agent didn't want you to hear," the old man told him. "You are more powerful than they can possibly imagine and I want to see that you don't stumble in achieving that power because of the misguided notions of some cowardly fools."

"Well, I'll think about it," Slick said cryptically. The old man nodded and got up.

"I know you will and I wish you the best," he agreed and then began leaving.

"Hey!" Slick called out to the man. "Was it worth it?"

"You'll have to find that out for yourself. Goodbye Slick," the man responded and then was gone. Slick took a drink from his water bottle and realized that he too had business to attend to and walked out of the gas station to see the Tsunami, Palamino, and Excelsior Stretch Limousine race off down the road.

"Good luck," the playboy offered lightly before immediately racing into the bathroom. As he proceeded to do his business and tried to organize his cluttered thoughts about what the CIA Agent and the Old Man had taught him, his eyes wandered over to the sink where something caught his eye. Reaching down, the playboy gingerly picked up Houston 3's armband examined it in the single light of the restroom.

"_I bet John wishes he could try and examine this further_," Slick figured as he debated whether or not to chase after the scientist. But then something surprising happened as a small electrical arc shot off the device and connected with Slick's skin.

"AHHHH!" shouted the playboy as he collapsed in pain as a raging headache tore through his brain. But then the moment passed and he was back to normal.

Normal on the outside at least, inside, Slick's mind was raging with new information…information about OMAR's network that had been downloaded into his mind through that brief contact.

"_Incredible_," thought the playboy astounded at how much had been downloaded into his mind in such a short contact. He could see OMAR's strengths, weaknesses, and more, but not enough to do anything with. He shook the armband a couple more times but it was unwilling to reveal any more information. Yet the playboy needed to know more and he wasn't sure how to get it seeing as John said they had no known technology that could interface with it outside of OMAR.

"_Perhaps if I put it on…?_" Slick figured and then immediately stopped as everything became clear.

This was the choice he was destined to make, a choice between a life of directionless obscurity or a life of focused strength and commitment. He had no idea what would happen if he put on the armband and what sort of person he would become. All he knew was what his mind told him he could do with the knowledge the armband possessed and the echoes from the past.

_"I can feel it Slick, you're going to change the world someday."_

_ "You're more powerful than they can possibly imagine…"_

"_One day you're going to be confronted with a choice between two different paths your life could go down. Just don't make a decision I know you'll regret for the rest of your life."_

_ "People will remember the name Slick Clyde one day, I promise you that."_

And then the answer became clear and he knew he really only had one choice to make.

Outside: Slick Clyde pushed open the door to the restroom and walked towards Houston's abandoned Palamino. Getting in, the playboy turned the key and the engine roared to life at his command. Adjusting the mirror, the reflection fell on Slick Clyde's evil grin as he hit the accelerator and the car rocketed off away from the gas station.

Hospital: "How are you feeling?" asked Convoy of Houston who had finally been discharged.

"I've been better, but I think from here on out life will be worth living again," she told him. Convoy nodded his head in approval at that as Sheila gave her a hug for reassurance.

"So where do you go from here?" the trucker asked, curious. Houston held herself in her arms as he looked out across the area around them.

"I really don't know," she confessed haunted. "I don't remember anything about my past at all before the auto wars."

"Well we'd both be happy if you wanted to start your future with us," Sheila told her. "Vigilantes don't abandon Vigilantes."

Houston smiled at that. "Thanks, I appreciate it. And I hope that I'll be able to earn that trust you're placing in me."

With that, Convoy helped her into his cab before turning to Sheila.

"Happy trails, cowpoke," he told her as Sheila hugged him as well.

"I'm going to finish school and then I'm joining the FBI," she declared. Convoy nodded his head.

"Girl's gotta go her own way," he told her. "But if you ever need anything…"

"I won't hesitate to ask," she promised. "Goodbye Uncle C."

"I love ya, ya nut," the trucker told her. "And keep your eyes on the stars because for all we know Dave might come flying out of them to save us all."

"Turbo wagons here I come!" Sheila said and then saluted her Uncle and then with a laugh ran for her vehicle and the two went their separate ways.

OMAR Headquarters: The remaining OMAR Executives were discussing the current failure of their attempt to bring America to its knees.

"So does anyone have any further input on how our next offensive against America should go?" asked One.

"Actually, yes, I have one," said a new voice. "Don't rely on outside help to get the job done."

"Which is?" began One before realizing this was a new arrival. "Wait, who are you?"

The Old Man emerged from the shadows along with Obake and Dallas 13 in the center of the room looking up at the OMAR Executives.

"I'm the one who is going to finally put this company in a position of global domination," the old man answered. The OMAR Executives laughed at him.

"Why would we do that when you've been trying to conquer us!" shouted Two as One pressed the button to summon security.

"I haven't been trying to conquer OMAR, I've been fashioning it into a more lethal version than anything you fools will accomplish," the man shot back. OMAR was in uproar over that.

"Even if that is true, you said it yourself don't trust third parties!" shouted Eleven. The man chuckled at that before his expression darkened.

"Newsflash: **I AM OMAR!**" the man roared angrily in a voice that chilled the executives to the bone. As a result none of them could muster a response to that because each of them somehow believed it even though they had no proof.

"I am going to be the one who conquers the United States and I am going to do it on my own time. All I need from you is to sit back and let me do my work unopposed and then not screw it up when I'm done!" the man ordered. "Is that understood?"

No response.

"Is. That. Understood?" the man repeated with a current of underlying malice as he looked at the remaining OMAR Executives. Above their heads, the word 'YES' appeared above their heads as their images winked off one by one leaving One the only remaining member in the room.

"Hello Auntie," said the Old Man. "It's been awhile…for me at least."

"I won't let you do this," said One as they leaned forward and revealed the image of Auntie Entity. "I won't let you take over what I created."

"You won't have any choice. But…I have no plans to expand into Australia so perhaps you can find more options there," the Old Man told her sympathetically and then turned to leave with his companions.

"Wait!" Auntie called out to them as the old man stopped and looked up at her as her next statement came as a whisper. "Why…why are you here?"

"Why did I come you ask? Wasn't it obvious even for someone like you?" demanded the Old Man with a slight hint of disgust as his eyes narrowed darkly. "**I've come through time to claim what's mine!**"

With that, the Old Man strode out of the room as security forces raced in from other entrances and found nothing but empty space.

In the skies above, the three vehicles raced overhead and vanished into a bright light headed back to the year 2017.

Las Vegas: Johnny Stabler and his biker gang exited another establishment that they had wringed clean for protection money.

"Another excellent haul, boys, another excellent-," began the leader.

!

The sound of an angry engine reached their ears as the sound of gravel being crunched drew ominously closer before a pair of headlights blinded the gang. And then sound of a door opening was heard and a figure walked in front of the vehicle and faced them.

"Hello Johnny, it's been awhile," said a familiar voice.

"Slick, is that you?" asked the gang leader surprised at having remembered the man.

"The one and only," responded Slick Clyde in the affirmative as the gang's eyes adjusted to the light and Slick became visible holding a cane in his hands. "You know why I'm here."

"I told you not to be a hero kid," Johnny warned him as he quickly took out his guns and aimed them at the playboy. "You didn't learn and now you're going to pay the price."

"Actually I did learn from what you told me," Slick responded as his thumb hovered over a button on his cane. "And I'm not the hero of this story anymore…**I'm the villain.**"

Slick flung the cane out at the biker and the electricity that rocketed off of it barbecued the biker for several moments until his charred corpse collapsed to the ground. The rest of the gang looked at the body uncertainly before looking at the playboy fearfully.

"My name is Lord Clyde and you work for me now," the young man told them. "Now get on your bikes because we are the new Coyote Cartel and we have work to do."

The playboy subsequently headed back into his vehicle and drove off as part of his shirt draped loosely over an electronic armband affixed to his left arm.

The Initial Fight had ended.

The Second Offense had only just begun.


End file.
